Tied Tongues
by SmurfLuvsCookies
Summary: An alphabetical story that has no particular order, because when they are together Alec jumbles up his words and Magnus will occasionally speak in a different language entirely. Q is for Quarantine - This is what happens when a potion goes wrong.
1. M is for Matrimony

_**Author's Note: **Well hello there! Due to my recent obsession with Malec (haven't read _The City of Lost Souls_ simply because I'm afraid of whatever catastrophe goes on between this couple in there) I've constructed this alphabetical fic that really has no correlation at all. The random order is mainly because of my laziness, but I like the explanation in the summary better so we're just going to go with that. I hope you like this, and if you do (or if you don't) you should check out my other Mortal Instruments story, a horribly over-done oneshot called _Bound_._

_**Disclaimer: **Last time I checked, I was not Cassandra Clare, therefore I do not own Mortal Instruments or anything affiliated with it. But I can dream, can't I?_

* * *

**M is for Matrimony:  
**_Magnus may or may not have influenced New York's verdict on gay marriage._

The cool, dark interior of Magnus's apartment was a welcome relief that sweltering June afternoon. Alec took a moment to bask in the wave of air-conditioning that accompanied the fine dust of glittery residue that permeated everything Magnus owned. He kicked off his boots (his conservative monochrome wardrobe was year-round) and tentatively poked his head into the stylish den. He learned long ago never to walk into a room in Magnus's home unprepared. Between his wild parties, duties as High Warlock of Brooklyn, and generally flamboyant attitude, the indiscretions that occurred within the sanctuary of these neon walls were vast and absurd. Once Alec walked into Magnus standing in the center of a pentagram drawn on the floor, completely naked, levitating five goats mid-air. He proceeded to walk right back out, and was sent a lovely arrangement of flowers the next morning.

Today, though, the den seemed relatively safe and free of farm animals. Magnus was splayed on the couch, surrounded by a mountain of pillows, books, blankets, and empty cans of Monster energy drink. He hadn't changed out of his pajamas, which consisted of vibrant blue pants with a cartoon penguin pattern and a pale pink kimono. When he noticed Alec, he smiled brilliantly and snapped his fingers. The Monster cans disappeared.

"Good morning, love," he greeted, patting the spot next to him.

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon," Alec remarked, obliging to Magnus's request and filling the vacant seat. He noticed that the warlock's hair stuck up in odd directions, as though he had been sleeping on it, and his eyeliner was smudged. Idly he wondered how his boyfriend could manage to look utterly disarranged and positively magnificent at the same time.

"Is it?" Magnus pondered. "Well, then I suppose it's earlier than I thought."

Alec shook his head and turned his attention to the television, choosing not to comment. He noticed with mild shock that Magnus was watching the local news. Alec knew that Magnus didn't watch much TV to begin with, unless it was those reality shows like _Project Runway_ or _America's Next Top Model_. But the news? It was so unglamorous. So..._mundane_.

"Mundie news?"

"Oh, this. Well, usually I wouldn't bother in the trivial affairs of mundanes, but today there is a topic of interest," Magnus explained, handing Alec an ice-cold Coke he conjured up.

"What?"

"Same-sex marriage."

This answer was so unexpected that Alec nearly choked on his soda. "Marriage! What do you mean, marriage?"

"You know, holy matrimony?" Magnus brought his hands together in a symbolic gesture. "The joining of two people who love each other and want to spend the rest of their lives together? Your parents are married, dear."

"I _know _what marriage is," Alec grumbled. "I want to know why you're so interested in the gay variety."

"Well, I _am _gay," Magnus pointed out. "I figured you would have noticed that by now. Anyway, it might be something that effects us in the near future. I'm only trying to be a responsible, informed citizen of these forty-eight states."

Alec gave Magnus a look. "We are _not _getting married. And there's fifty states."

"Today the legislature is going to pass an act that will make same-sex marriage officially legal," Magnus continued, as if Alec hadn't spoken.

"How do you know they'll pass it?" Alec inquired warily. "Can't the whole democracy thing go both ways? No pun intended."

Magnus smiled wickedly. "Let's just say I'm very _connected_."

"You didn't." Alec felt his face drain of color.

"Whatever do you mean, Alec, darling?"

"Please tell me you didn't rig the vote or something so it would pass. I'm pretty sure that's against the Accords and I really don't want to arrest you."

Magnus pouted. "I thought you would be happy. But if it will make you feel better, no, I didn't rig anything."

"Good," Alec sighed.

"I might have _influenced _them a bit..."

"_Magnus!_"

"What? I'm just kidding. Can't you take a joke, Alexander?"

Alec was spared from replying by the news anchor, whose voice oozed from the television with a renewed urgency. "_This just in, the much-awaited verdict on the Marriage Equality Act has been decided. The New York Legislature has passed the act with a vote of 33-39. Governor Cuomo has also signed off on this bill. It's official: same-sex marriage will not only be recognized in the state of New York, but can also be performed_..." The anchor woman's voice cut off with a sharp cackle of static as Magnus switched off the giant flat-screen television.

"What d'you know?" he said with a sly grin. "My prediction was right. This certainly works out for us, doesn't it?"

Alec scowled. "We_ are not _getting married."

"What do you say we get some breakfast? IHOP, my treat."

Alec glowered as Magnus stood and sauntered across the den to his bedroom to supposedly get ready for so-called  
"breakfast." He glanced at the time (2:24pm) and groaned when he heard the shower water running. Looked like it was going to be pancakes for dinner. Again.


	2. Y is for Yoyo

_**Author's Note:** Liking the initial feedback... :) Most of these will be pretty goofy; not necessarily crack, but certainly that random Mortal Instruments humor we love. There will be a few angst pieces thrown in for good measure...also, just started reading the Infernal Devices! Along the line there may be some references. _

* * *

**Y is for Yo-yo**:  
_A lovely party favor and a deadly weapon_.

Magnus blinked as a thin stream of early-morning sunlight glared directly in his eyes. He scowled irritably at the offending product of nature, and with a floppy wave of his hand the glittery black curtains restored cool shadow to the room.

It was Alec who had thrown open the curtains, probably sometime last night. The Shadowhunter claimed that he had not the inclination to become nocturnal like Magnus and relied on the annoying rays of Earth's natural alarm clock to wake him when he stayed over, knowing full well that Magnus would disable any digital means of waking should he discover it (and he always did).

Magnus attempted to be angry at his boyfriend for indirectly waking him up at the _ungodly_ hour of ten-thirty in the morning, but it was a feeble attempt at best. How could he be so pessimistic when they were snuggled together like this, a blurred twist of bare skin, angled limbs, and crumpled pillows all buried under neon sheets? There was an arm thrown around his waist, another around his shoulders; he could see his own manicured hand poking out from behind Alec's head. He was not even going to try to distinguish whose legs and feet were whose. It was difficult to discern where one man ended and the other began. Magnus felt oddly at one with his boyfriend in a semi-completely nonsexual way (because, honestly, when was something _ever_ completely nonsexual with his sensual self around?). This unity wasn't at all unwelcome. Chairman Meow was the only nuisance, dozing on Alec's abandoned pillow and absently flicking his tail back and forth across the empty space, occasionally thwacking his master in the face.

Alec snored slightly as he slept with his head on Magus's chest. It was a soft, pleasant sound, although Magnus did not entirely appreciate the formidable puddle of drool dribbling from Alec's mouth. Endearing in it's own way, like everything Alec did, but disgusting all the same.

He reluctantly admitted to himself that Alec's intense fatigue was partially his fault. Magnus knew when Alec shuffled into the apartment that he was dead on his feet, but they hadn't seen each other in _days_. Alec had been busy with his Nephilim duties all week, rounding up a scattered horde of demons that had devoured the poor, irresponsible warlock who'd summoned them. It was blatantly obvious that he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while, but _that _was one thing Magnus couldn't give him after his prolonged absence.

At least he would let him sleep in, whether the disciplined Shadowhunter liked it or not. Alec always carried on about his descent into the nocturne lifestyle, but if he wasn't careful he would acquire a case of insomnia before long.

Magnus closed his eyes and nuzzled Alec's disorderly black hair. It was always so soft and plain, but beautiful for it. Everything about Alec was beautiful, from his perfect blue eyes to his long pale toes. He just didn't know it.

The warlock absently healed Alec's battle wounds as his fingers gently traced the patterns on the Shadowhunter's Marked body. Magnus had never found the Nephilim's angelic language fascinating until he met Alec. He couldn't manipulate runes for his own use, so what was the point in trying? He was _unworthy_ of the Holy Language, his blood tainted by his birth as one of Lilith's brood. But the faint silver scars on Alec's skin told a story, _his _story, and for the first time in his extensive existence Magnus found himself genuinely curious about the workings of Heaven. The two of them spent many hours knotted together like they were now, limp and breathless or sleepy and sated. Magnus would trace a scar with his fingertips and Alec would try to remember what it was, when and why he used the rune that caused it. They often carried on until they fell asleep, or a particular brush of skin aroused a fresh bout of passion.

Just as he finished healing Alec's cuts and bruises (and the fractured rib that the Shadowhunter hadn't even noticed, if last night's contortions were any indication), an obnoxiously loud buzzer sounded through the apartment. "BANE - !" the speaker boomed, but Magnus snapped his fingers and it muted. Whoever it was, they could wait. This was more important.

* * *

Gage Hartlee was not a patient man. He had the stocky, muscular build of a linebacker, and was thrice as threatening with his curling tattoos, ugly scars, and heavy-metal attire. As alpha of the largest lycanthrope pack in Brooklyn, why should he practice petty virtues such as patience? The palpable intimidation rolling off of him alone was enough to get him what he wanted, and quick.

This half-demon punk Magnus Bane had the nerve to keep him waiting? Gage was aware of Bane's contradicting reputation: he was the best the warlocks of New York had to offer, but he chose his cases as he pleased and charged a pretty penny for them too. Gage didn't care if Magnus-freaking-Bane was the High Warlock of the Goddamn World; he was practically equal with the sparkly little twerp, he would be shown respect, and he _would not_ be ignored.

Thoroughly enraged, Gage pressed the buzzer for the third time. "I SWEAR TO GOD, BANE, IF YOU DON'T LET ME INSIDE I AM GOING TO TEAR YOUR THROAT OUT WITH MY TEETH! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!"

He counted backwards from ten and took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer once more. "Alright, Bane, I'm coming up whether you like it or not."

It didn't take much pressure to break open the door. Just a kick from one dictionary-sized boot, and he was in. No one could keep out all 6'8 of Gage Hartlee.

"BANE!" he roared as he thundered up the stairs to the warlock's apartment. It sounded like a herd of elephants marching in synchronization up the stairwell, not one angry werewolf.

Gage stopped outside of the apartment that he knew belonged to Magnus Bane. He raised one fist to pound on the door, when it opened just enough for a single yellow yo-yo to zip through. The door closed again, leaving just Gage and the yo-yo floating at eye level.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, peering with confusion at the plastic toy. He pinched it between his fingers and noticed that there something written in elegant fuchsia calligraphy on the side.

_Sorry for the inconvenience, but I am unavailable at the moment. Return another time and I will give you audience. Take this lovely contraption as an apology. Sincerely, M. Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn_.

Gage blinked at the message in astonishment. His face became an unhealthy shade of puce as the full meaning began to sink in. This was unacceptable. The lycanthrope opened his mouth to relay his emotions to everyone in the vicinity, boisterously, when the letters on the yo-yo rearranged themselves and a new message appeared.

_Leave immediately or you will be forced from the premises. Please be quiet on your way out. Sincerely, M. Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn_.

That was the last straw. Gage was not about to leave with his tail tucked between his legs just because of some idle threat written on a _yo-yo_. How exactly was Bane going to force him out? Stuff glitter down his throat until he begged for mercy?

The yo-yo twitched in Gage's fist. All of a sudden it leapt from his fingers and socked him violently in the nose. He heard a crunch and felt the blood gush down his face, along with white-hot pain. Gage snarled and tried to snatch the yo-yo, but it had already zoomed down to his feet and tied them together at the ankles. He lost his balance and fell with a bodily thump on the floor. Before he knew it the yo-yo had released his ankles and wrapped around his throat. With incredible strength it dragged him down the corridor, half-choking him along the way. Gage's fingers were too big to pry the string from his neck; the action only made the pain worse. The possessed toy pulled him down the stairs (a long and painful procession of right angles) and did not relinquish its grip until he was in the safety of the street. Then it unraveled itself, fell to the ground, and was once more a harmless yo-yo with yet another message.

_Thank you, and have a grand day_.

The people on the street stared at the deranged, bloody hulk of a man as he sprinted, screaming and cursing, away from the vibrant yellow yo-yo deposited on the sidewalk.

Later that day, when Magnus made an offhand remark about how yo-yos were actually an effective tool and that he should start handing them out as party favors, Alec decided not comment. He probably didn't want to know.


	3. D is for Dancing

_**Author's Note:** I just finished _Clockwork Angel_ and am commencing with _Clockwork Prince_! I love this series, better than even the original Mortal Instruments I think. No offense to Cassandra, but she should have just stopped at book three...and I say this, even though it makes me a total hypocrite because I will definitely be reading the _City of Lost Souls_ when I get a hold of it and the_ City of Heavenly Fire_ when it comes out. Even the most hard-core Shadowhunter fans have to admit that everything after the _City of Glass_ was a downhill spiral. But this series is like a bad addiction: you can't stop reading once you're in its clutches, even if the quality begins to deteriorate. _

* * *

**D is for Dancing:**  
_Alec is surprisingly talented._

Alec wasn't entirely sure _how _he'd gotten involved in this, but he knew that he no longer wanted to partake it as soon as Magnus suggested he learn to dance.

"I can't dance," was his immediate response.

Magnus gave him a look. "Alec, honey, don't sell yourself short. Anyone with passion and an ounce of coordination can learn how to dance if they have the right partner."

"Why am I doing this, again?"

"If I'm going to show you off to my friends, we have to do it in style. Otherwise there's no point in you meeting them."

"You have friends?"

"Of course I do!" Magnus cried, offended. "Who do you think comes to my parties?"

"I figured they were clients. Or random people off the street. Or friends of Chairman Meow." Alec glanced at the cat in question, who was blandly observing them from his curled-up place on a dislodged pillow. "With as many birthday parties as you've thrown him, he must be as old as you."

"I can't believe you're implying that my _cat_ has more friends than I do," Magnus scoffed.

"Doesn't he?"

"We are getting off topic!" snapped Magnus, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"You're absolutely right," Alec agreed promptly. "It looks like there's no point in introducing me to your friends. Whose idea was that, anyway?"

"It was yours! Don't you remember asking me, 'I wonder what your friends are like?' I'm graciously offering you this opportunity to meet them, and all you have to do is dance."

Now that he thought about it, Alec did recall pondering what kind of people Magnus consorted with outside of his parties, but it had just been an idle idea. He hadn't put any stock in it, hadn't even realized he'd uttered the question aloud. Alec suspected that Magnus just wanted to teach him to dance more than anything, but seeing his pleading gaze fluttering from behind layers of eyeliner, he decided that he probably did owe this to the warlock. After all, how long had Magnus complied with Alec's wishes about his family and friends? What was a simple dance compared to keeping their entire relationship a secret?

And honestly, Alec couldn't deny that he was a _little _curious to see who Magnus wanted him to meet so badly.

"Fine," he begrudgingly agreed.

Magnus's face lit up. "Really? You'll do it?"

"Yeah, I guess. For you."

Magnus gave him a look that made his heart stop for about two seconds. "Thank you," he murmured, brushing the hair from Alec's forehead. "This means a lot to me. And I promise you won't regret it. I'll even let you pick the dance. How do you feel about tango?"

The warlock's attire changed from scarlet leather pants and a sparkly mesh tank-top to a devilishly handsome black tuxedo, a fedora with a long white feather, and a fragrant red rose. He clamped the rose between his teeth and snapped his fingers. Suddenly a sparkly sleeveless red dress appeared in his hands.

Alec frowned, fuzzy feelings gone. "Hell no."

Magnus took the rose from his mouth and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket with one fluid, graceful movement. "Would you rather lead?"

"I swear on the Angel, Magnus, if either one of us has to wear _that, _then the deal is off."

"Very well." Both outfits disappeared. "No costumes. For now, anyway. Let's just begin with practice, shall we?"

Alec awkwardly let Magnus take his hands and put them in the right places ("I don't think my hand is supposed to go _there,_" was a phrase uttered all too often) and eventually, with a sudden symphony of wild Spanish music, he even began to learn the steps.

Magnus was a very patient teacher, even when Alec tripped over his own two feet. He never realized how _big_ his feet were, and Magnus's too. It seemed like the warlock's toes always appeared under his shoe at last second. Magnus didn't wince, but after several accidental stomps Alec did notice he tread a little lighter.

"Go with the flow of the music," Magnus suggested, releasing Alec to show. He did a few graceful steps and a flirtatious shimmy, gleaning a smile out of Alec. Magnus suddenly appeared beside him and grabbed his hand, spinning him in a circle and attempting to dip him. Unfortunately Alec was not expecting the sudden shift in weight and they both crashed to the floor.

He blinked away stars and saw that Magnus had fallen on top of him. The warlock was grinning from ear to ear, his long, colorful tresses tickling Alec's face. "I suppose there are advantages to teaching an amateur," he murmured, brushing some glitter from Alec's cheek.

"Is that supposed to be romantic or something?" Alec inquired wryly. Magnus's smile only grew wider, having an uncanny resemblance to the Cheshire Cat.

"I never promised to be romantic all the time, sweetheart." To emphasize his point Magnus playfully nipped at Alec's nose, inciting a startled yelp from the victim of the assault. Magnus sat up, straddling Alec's lap, shaking with laughter. The floor-bound dancer propped himself up on his elbows, his face glowing red. It was moments like these that Alec hated his fair complexion, hated that he could not hide embarrassment or fury or arousal from his boyfriend. Magnus, however, didn't seem to mind.

"Come, we'll continue," the warlock sighed, stretching.

Alec raised an eyebrow. "You have to get off me first."

"Oh, well, yes, I suppose you're right." Magnus pursed his lips, clearly considering the pros and cons of continuing with the lesson. Evidently he decided that he should, as he swiftly leapt to his feet and offered a hand to Alec. The disgruntled (and slightly disappointed) Shadowhunter took his hand and let him pull him to his feet. "Now, remember what I said about the music," Magnus instructed as they settled into the proper dancing position. "Just let the music move your body."

This advice was quickly retracted, as it was clear that the music had a grudge against Alec and moved his body in very unflattering ways. "Forget the music," Magnus huffed. "Let me be your guide. Follow my lead."

They were pleased to discover that this technique worked fractionally better. Alec began to understand the steps, although the rhythm and order were completely lost on him. It was clear that they were both growing more and more frustrated as the lesson commenced. Chairman Meow had fled the scene, opting instead to replenish the infestation of fur on Alec's pillow in the bedroom.

"No, no, no," Magnus exclaimed for the billionth time over the roar of music. "Alec, it's forward, right, back, left, not forward, right, left, back!"

"Sorry," Alec huffed, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. He was beginning to think that he was hopeless when it came to dancing and, he was surprised to discover, it was a rather morbid aspect. Dancing wasn't a big part of Shadowhunter culture, but during important events - balls, marriages, and the like - it was important and useful to know how. Alec had just never been taught. And who had been there to teach him to dance? Certainly not clumsy old Hodge. And as for his parents, well, they had better things to do.

Magnus sensed Alec's dwindling enthusiasm and relented. "Okay, let's take a break."

"Isn't there a potion or a spell or something you could cast to make me a better dancer?" he asked crankily. It was already late, almost eleven o'clock; they'd been dancing for about four hours.

"I'm a warlock," Magnus sighed, "not a miracle worker."

"_Very _encouraging."

"Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. I didn't realize...I mean, you're Nephilim...I figured you'd have a better sense of rhythm than this..."

"I'm going home."

"Wait!" Magnus caught Alec by the shoulder. "I'm sorry, I was just joking. That was insensitive. Don't go."

Alec faltered. "My mother will be upset if I show up late."

"Then stay the night," Magnus offered, sliding his thumbs through the belt loops of Alec's jeans. "Maryse won't mind. I can tell you weren't having fun. I'll make it up to you..."

Magnus drove away thoughts of home with a series of short, intense kisses. A sample, Alec knew, of Magnus's idea of making it up to him. He closed his eyes against the sensations blossoming where the warlock's lips brushed his skin. "...M'kay," he breathed between kisses. "I'll stay...and Magnus?"

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry I'm not a better dancer."

Magnus chucked, resting his forehead on Alec's. "That's not something to apologize for, love. And you know, you're really not doing too bad."

"You're kidding, right?" Alec raised an eyebrow. "I suck."

"At tango, yes, but like I said, anyone can dance if they have passion, an ounce of coordination, and the right partner." Magnus grabbed Alec's hands and brought them up to his shoulders, then placed his own hands at Alec's waist. The music morphed into something soft and slow. Magnus grinned and swayed to the side, guiding Alec by the hips. The Shadowhunter laid his head on his dance partner's shoulder. He loved the way Magnus smelled: warm skin, leather, some kind of sweet musk. Also a bit like sulfur, but it was barely there and Alec had the feeling that Magnus wouldn't appreciate the observation.

They rocked in silence for a few perfect moments before Magnus whispered, "See? You're a marvelous dancer."

"Whatever," Alec scoffed. "So is this the dance we're going with?"

"Nice try, but don't think you're getting out of it that easily, Alexander. I was thinking tomorrow we would try flamenco," Magnus considered thoughtfully, but he winked when he caught Alec's mortified expression. "I'm kidding. Mostly."

"Sadistic bastard," Alec mumbled.

"True, but you can't say that it doesn't turn you on," Magnus replied, and when Alec opened his mouth to object he kissed him so passionately that he forgot whatever retort he had (and he was fairly certain it was a good one). The warlock proceeded to propel them toward the couch, where they stayed, tangled together in a mass of splayed limbs, all pretense of dancing abandoned entirely.

* * *

_**Another Author's Note:** If anyone was wondering, the song that I imagined Alec and Magnus to slow dance to is _Sparks_ by Coldplay. Every time I listen to it, I can't help but think that it's perfect for slow dancing._


	4. H is for Handcuffs and Heartbeats

_**Author's Note:** So, a two for one deal! I originally had the Handcuffs idea, but I was feeling angsty one day and it seemed too short so I whipped up a little extra one. Hope you guys like it!_

* * *

**Handcuffs:**  
_Isabelle's have gone missing._

When Isabelle strode into the kitchen that cheerful Sunday morning with the slightly disgruntled look of someone who's been fruitlessly searching for something, Jace didn't give it a second thought. She was always looking for some accessory or another (although how she lost them in the first place he couldn't fathom, considering they were often outrageously gaudy, shiny, heavy, or all the above), and usually they turned up after a day or two when she ceased looking. Jace had suggested several times that a ghastly spirit possessed her jewelry, but in truth he was half convinced that Church was the thief. The Persian cat was always mysteriously absent when Isabelle embarked on one of her crusades, and he had never liked her much besides.

Jace smiled to himself, remembering the time he'd shared this cat-burglar theory with Max and the imaginative boy proposed that Church probably modeled Isabelle's jewelry in front of the mirror. The memory was bittersweet, now, and the spot on the counter next to the sink where the youngest of the three Lightwood children had slurped down the remnants of his chocolate milk was hauntingly empty.

"What are _you _smirking at?" Isabelle demanded harshly, thoroughly exasperated with the lack of results her search had procured and evidently deciding that Jace would be a suitable target to take her frustrations out on.

"Do I have to have a license to smirk now?" Jace shot back. "It's usually no problem in the kitchen I guess, considering your cooking."

"There's nothing wrong with my cooking," Isabelle snapped.

"You're right," Jace admitted. "Without you, Tiki's would probably be out of business by now."

"What do you _want_, Jace?" said Isabelle, as though he were the one intruding on her early morning solitude and not the other way around.

"Well - " he began, but Isabelle held up a hand.

"Never mind, don't answer that." She went back to searching, ignoring Jace entirely. He observed her with amusement until he consumed his Cheerios and drained his coffee in one smooth gulp. Eventually curiosity got the better of him, as Isabelle was now shifting through the refrigerator to discover whatever it was she was hunting, and he asked her, "What exactly are you looking for?"

"I'm going on a date tonight," Isabelle sighed, which was such a typical answer that Jace was preparing to tune out the rest of the explanation until he heard, "and I'm looking for my handcuffs."

"Handcuffs?" he repeated, utterly astounded. Astounding Jace in any increment, particularly utterly, was an impressive feat. "What kind of date are you _going _on?"

Isabelle gave him a look. "The kind that you don't need to worry about."

"I'm offended," Jace sniffed. "I'm practically your brother, Izzy, and I'm also your older brother's _parabatai_. Imagine what he would think if this information reached his delicate little ears? Or even Maryse..."

"If you _must _know, my date is fascinated with cosplay," Isabelle huffed. "And I intend to dress as some sexy police officer or another, but I can't achieve that without handcuffs."

"Cosplay? Isn't that when you dress up as those little Japanese characters or something?" Jace remarked. "As far as I know, only mundane dorks partake in cosplay."

"Clary does cosplay."

"My point exactly." Jace paused only to consider what Clary might look like as a sexy police woman, and decided that perhaps it wasn't such a dorky thing after all. "Your date doesn't happen to be Simon...?"

"My date is none of your concern," Isabelle said with a haughty toss of her head, but Jace could see by the pink flush of her cheeks that he had guessed correctly. He rolled his eyes and poured himself another cup of coffee. Ever since Simon Turned and acquired the attention of a certain werewolf girl, Isabelle had been increasingly eager to try new mundane things that she would have definitely refused in any other circumstance. It was Jace's honest opinion that it should have been the other way around, but apparently Isabelle's tactic was working. After all, Simon had invited her to this cosplay thing instead of Maia, who probably would have genuinely enjoyed it. _Either way_, Jace thought wryly, _he'll be the envy of all his little mundie friends_.

Alec materialized into the kitchen, wearing his leather jacket over the clothes that for someone with an untrained eye were uniform with the rest of his wardrobe, but for Isabelle and Jace were obviously the same faded black sweater and jeans he'd worn yesterday. This and the subtle hints of glitter and cat hair clinging to his person were blatant signs of his tryst with Magnus, but Jace couldn't resist asking, "Where have _you _been all night?"

"Magnus's," Alec said simply. Jace was mildly disappointed; only a few weeks ago, that question would have sent Alec into a fit of blushing and sputtering or he would have told a poor lie. Evidently he'd come to terms that if he was going to have sex with Magnus, he would have to admit it to his family. However, it was less entertaining that way.

Jace, who was feeling particularly irksome that morning, tried again. "Our dear little Isabelle has a date tonight and is looking for her handcuffs, Alec. Have you by chance happened upon them on your way in?"

Isabelle shot Jace an infuriated look, but Alec seemed unfazed by the question. In fact, he snapped his fingers with a small exclamation and reached into his jacket pocket. His hand emerged with a pair of silver handcuffs, which he unceremoniously dropped on the counter. "Magnus lost his," he explained, "and he was too drunk to conjure some. He asked me to bring these over. Sorry for not asking first, but I figured you wouldn't care."

Jace and Isabelle could only stare, stunned into silence, as Alec poured himself a glass of orange juice, plucked a Poptart from the box in the pantry, and made his way to his room. They exchanged a single horrified look before Isabelle grabbed a pair of tongs from the drawer and gingerly pinched the handcuffs between them, tossing both instruments into the trash.

"...I'm going to call Simon," she muttered after an extensive pause. "I think I'd rather wear that horrid black shinigami costume than look at a pair of handcuffs ever again."

Jace didn't say anything. For once, he was speechless.

* * *

**Heartbeats:**  
_A peculiar kind of music._

Magnus would readily admit that when Alec stayed the night at his apartment, the sex was not his favorite part of the evening. Oh, the sex was undeniably fantastic (Alec was a very fast learner and surprisingly adventurous), but it was that serene moment _after_ the intense crescendo of sex that Magnus loved most. That moment when they were both satisfied and too exhausted to do anything but lay there in each other's arms. That moment when Magnus's bones felt like rubber and his muscles like liquid, when his senses were stimulated to the likes of which no drug or drink could ever accomplish.

He saw everything with an unnerving clarity (which wasn't surprising, considering Alec had observed that when Magnus was aroused his pupils dilated like a cat's). He saw every taunt, lean line of muscle, every shadow, every drop of sweat on Alec's skin. He saw within the depths of Alec's blue eyes, the eyes that always lied to Magnus and assured him he was doing the right thing by involving himself in this innocent Shadowhunter's short life. Those eyes told him that Alec was simply happy, purely elated and utterly joyous, and that Magnus had made him so. Magnus knew that eventually he would also make Alec equally unhappy, but he promptly decided not to dwell on the fact.

Magnus could also smell the mingling, powerful aromas that hung like heavy lace curtains in the air: warm skin, sweat, desire, and that strangely metallic fragrance that Magnus attributed to every Nephilim he'd known. It wasn't an entirely pleasant smell, that Shadowhunter trademark, but no matter how many times Magnus had his sheets washed he couldn't rid them of it. Eventually it spread through the entire apartment and Magnus began to love it, even when his Downworlder party guests criticized him, because it reminded him of Alec when he was alone with only Chairman Meow as a companion.

And touch. Magnus loved to touch Alec, to assure that he was actually real, actually there, and not a phantom of some dream or another. Their contact was heated, electric, soothing, intimate: everything born from nothing, importance derived from irrelevance. The softness of Alec's hair, the warmth of his skin, the throb of pain that radiated from the places where he'd been bitten or where Alec had gripped to hard, they were all deliciously magnified but somehow also subdued.

Whenever Magnus licked his lips, he tasted the bitter tang of salt. It made him crinkle his nose and Alec would laugh at the expression, kiss him, and replace the taste with his own.

What Magnus most enjoyed in these moments, though, was the music. It was a peculiar kind of symphony, steady, rhythmic, and subtle, but precious just the same. Magnus didn't think that anyone ever appreciated the beautiful serenade of a heartbeat until they had heard it stop playing forever.

Alec's heart was strong and healthy. When the Shadowhunter fell asleep Magnus would often slide his hand across his chest until he felt it thrumming underneath his palm. He would stay like that, counting the beats, until it lulled him into slumber. Magnus knew logically that, like everyone else, the melody of Alec's heartbeat would eventually fade into silence. The universe had no regard for how special a single heartbeat was to an insignificant warlock. It would claim this gleaming, untarnished Nephilim back into its dark embrace. It seemed unfair that the universe found it acceptable to shatter the raw, brilliant music of Alexander Lightwood and leave the exhausted whine of Magnus Bane on this earth. Together they were a marvelous duet, but alone Magnus was only a sad, wary note amidst a chorus of other compositions.

Of course Magnus dreaded that day, the day that the universe decided it was time to close the curtains on Alec, but he knew better than to worry about something that was out of his control. There was nothing he could do about that day. There was nothing he could do but cherish every beat of Alec's lively heart.


	5. A is for Again

_**Author's Note:** So I just finished _Clockwork Prince_ and now I wish I hadn't because I can't wait for the third book to come out! However, because of this onslaught of anticipation I have unfortunately unleashed all of my pent-up angst in this poor story. That, I am well aware, is listed as a humor/romance. Anyway, I can assure you that this will (probably) be the last angsty piece. The rest will just be humorous, mindless fluff as promised. And unlike _Heartbeat_, this ends on a much more cheerful note._

_Just a FYI, this takes place after the events that take place after _Magnus's Vow_, if that makes any sense. If it doesn't, then it is my version of the events that take place after Alec confronts Magnus for the first time. It seems like a lot of people write they said, but surprisingly enough I haven't read a lot of fanfiction that focuses on their thought process afterward. Thus, this was spawned._

* * *

**A is for Again:**  
_Because once is never enough._

_What are you doing to yourself, Magnus?_

The warlock sighed and glanced into the wide green eyes of Chairman Meow, who perched on the couch. In a vain attempt to maintain some pretense of sanity, he decided to pretend that the cat had asked the question and answered accordingly.

"I don't know," he muttered. Under his breath he let out a stream of profanities in various coarse languages, flopping on the couch beside the cat in the appropriate tragic manner. Chairman Meow didn't seem perturbed; he often played confidante on the rare occasions that his master let something bother him. Centuries of practice ensured a relaxed Magnus who hardly got worked up over trivial things like relationships. Romance was so fleeting, but that made it easy. A one-night stand, a month; what did it matter to an immortal? Mundanes and the like, they were mere distractions. There could never be any future with them, not when Magnus didn't age.

Other immortals were so used to this concept that fidelity was lost on them. Sometimes Magnus wondered if he would eventually be the same way, if monogamy would one day become impossible. He _wanted _monogamy, a relationship where he could be happy with just one person for eternity, but somewhere deep in his heart he had grown to accept the bitter truth: it was never going to happen. It was either quick, passionate interludes or decades of devotion intermingled with betrayal and hurt.

"It's that Shadowhunter," Magnus huffed. "Do you remember when I said I would never dabble in the private affairs of Shadowhunters again? There are just too many restrictions, too many things that could go wrong. But..." He sighed again. "Alexander Lightwood. He...I feel that he is somehow different. Is that foolish of me?"

Chairman Meow yawned wide, flashing tiny white teeth and a thin pink tongue. Magnus puckered his lips. "You're right. It is foolish. But love is foolish." The warlock froze. Had he really just said _love_? He could not _love _this Shadowhunter, no matter how blue his eyes were, or how black his hair, or how adorable his blush, or how sweet his disposition. Nor could he love him for the softness of his lips or the tender hesitation in the brief kiss they shared. One kiss did not constitute love; it hardly constituted fondness.

This still did not stop Magnus from thinking about the shy young Shadowhunter. Timidity was such a rare trait in the Nephilim, particularly in the Lightwood branch. Alexander (_Alec_, he reprimanded himself) was also self-conscious, terribly awkward in his own skin. He was slightly damaged by the silent burden of his homosexuality, having heard all of his life that it was something fundamentally _wrong, _tormented by the fact that he couldn't control it. Magnus recalled his own childhood, remembered people telling him that his very existence was wrong. It wasn't as though he had created himself. He was sure that Alec felt similarly.

Magnus sensed that Alec wasn't broken. Not yet. But the day that he conformed to his parents' wishes and married some Nephilim girl, had children with her, he would be.

Magnus didn't want someone as beautiful as Alexander Lightwood to break. He didn't exactly have an urge to fix him, but rather to protect him from the evils of the world (although, he had to admit, Alec's innocence wasn't exactly what one would call _safe _in his presence; however, Magnus knew that there were greater perils than smoting an eighteen-year-old boy's virtue). Alec was used to fading into the background. He needed care, attention, and most of all he needed someone who, when he walked into a room, would notice him.

"He needs _me_," Magnus said. He turned to look at Chairman Meow, who was absorbed in grooming his paw.

Chairman Meow didn't answer, but Magnus sensed that the feline disagreed. _Just face it_, he imagined the cat saying with an air of impatience, _this Shadowhunter only needs you as much as you need him_.

"...I hate it when you're right," Magnus grumbled. "I'm going to break my own rules and see him again, aren't I?"

The cat rolled his eyes in response. _All rules are meant to be broken_.

"Even the personal ones?"

_Especially the personal ones_.

* * *

Alec didn't make it straight home. How could he? How could he go straight home like everything was normal when he'd just let the High Warlock of Brooklyn _kiss _him?

And the worst part?

He enjoyed it.

A _lot_.

Alec stuffed his hands deeper into his coat and veered off to the right, heading down an unfamiliar street. Buildings loomed above him from either side, comforting guardians of steel and brick. The concrete was damp under his boots and the cool wet air was soothing on his hot skin. A walk. He just needed to walk out here for a while. Walk and think.

He hadn't intended to stay that long. He hadn't even intended to really go into the warlock's apartment at all. Alec closed his eyes, remembering Isabelle's murmurs the night before as they walked away from Magnus Bane's party. _He seemed to really liked you_, she'd whispered. _He told you to call him. Maybe you should. It would help_... She had trailed off, glancing back at Jace and Clary behind them. Alec had to physically restrain himself from doing the same. He knew what he'd see: Jace looking at the short green-eyed redhead as though every word out of her mouth, every gesture she made, had the potential of unlocking the forbidden, treasured secrets of the entire freaking universe. How long had Alec wished Jace would look at _him _like that?

Being _parabatai _had always been a blessing and a curse, but now more than ever. Alec knew that even if there was a remote possibility of Jace feeling the same way about him (although there wasn't, not even the slimmest, slightest chance) they could not be together, not even in secret. It was against the Law for _parabatai _to have a romantic relationship.

"The Law is hard, but it is the Law," Alec muttered, disrupting the iridescent, oily swirls of puddle with more force than necessary. Jace's favorite quote.

Alec could feel, deep inside, how Jace had begun to care for Clary. It was another cursed aspect of the bond. Instinctively that protectiveness of her had spread in his own heart like an insidious disease, but Alec did not _want _to like Clary. He did not _want _to accept her like Jace and Isabelle seemed to. He wanted to hate her, but he knew that he couldn't. Alec didn't think he'd ever really hated anyone.

Watching Jace run after Clary as she recklessly abandoned them to retrieve her mundane friend from the vampires' clutches had hurt so much that Alec wondered if he should take Isabelle's advice. Perhaps he _should _call Magnus Bane. Perhaps he, Alec, deserved someone to make him happy, to distract him from this pain.

Magnus had obviously been startled to see him. Alec realized then that he didn't even know what to say to the warlock. So he'd just said, "Hello." And then he immediately realized the stupidity of that word.

Somehow they'd talked. Alec had gotten the impression that Magnus wasn't interested in him anymore; perhaps his flirting had been meaningless. Perhaps he hadn't even expected Alec to be gay, just embarrassed and humiliated in front of his Shadowhunter friends. This idea hadn't occurred to Alec beforehand, and he felt awfully ridiculous when it struck him at the threshold of Magnus Bane's wrecked apartment.

Then, for some reason, Magnus looked at him, sighed in a surrendering way, and asked him if he'd like to eat breakfast. Alec had refused. And then Magnus had kissed him, and he couldn't think of anything else.

It was only the third time in his life that Alec had ever been kissed. The first two times had been when he was twelve and fourteen, respectively, and both had been Shadowhunter girls visiting the New York Institute. They'd left, and they hadn't come back. Both times Alec had discovered that they'd tried to kiss Jace first.

This was different. It was the first time he'd ever been kissed by another guy. It was the first time he'd ever felt a lean, muscular pair of arms wrap around his neck, or the response of a lithe, catlike body as it rose to mold with his own. He had never melted into a kiss before now, had never had every coherent thought obliterated from his mind because of a touch. He never had to try so hard to pull away before.

Alec's face burned at the memory. By the Angel, how could he go home? Isabelle would surely find out. He didn't know if he could take her surprisingly gentle, over-eager encouragement. She meant well, so he didn't have the heart to tell her that he found her enthusiasm over his gayety patronizing and humiliating.

Oh, God. How was he going to look Jace in the eye anymore?

Alec glanced up from the strip of soiled cement he'd been staring at for the past hour. Early morning light was brightening the subdued grays of New York City skyscrapers into brilliant silvers. The obnoxious metronome of profanities and honking drifted from the congested street as mundane traffic grew more severe.

He surveyed his surroundings and smiled, an astonished smirk that slowly evolved into a wide grin and, eventually, hysterical laughter. An hour of walking and thinking and he'd ended up right in front of this place again. The irony.

_Well_, Alec thought, smiling up at the building, _if I can't go home, I might as well stay here_. Without further adieu, he pressed the buzzer and accepted Magnus Bane's second invitation to breakfast.


	6. F is for Flare

_**Author's Note:** So, a surprisingly good reaction to the angst! Maybe I will include another piece of it here..._

* * *

**F is for Flare:**  
_Alec has none._

In some uncaring corner of his mind, Alec was patiently counting down the days until it became an issue. He was actually rather impressed that Magnus contained his urges for so long. He didn't think the warlock was capable of exercising such self-control.

Eventually, though, the day came when Alec strode into the apartment (he and Magnus had fallen into the habit of calling it "the apartment" instead of "Magnus's apartment" or "my apartment" or "your apartment" because Alec practically lived here anyway) and it was one day too many of monochrome attire.

He knew that he was screwed as soon as he heard the distinct click of a bolt behind him. Nothing good ever happened when Magnus locked the door.

The warlock in question swerved dramatically in a swivelling black leather chair that Alec was fairly certain hadn't been there yesterday. With the spidery, bejeweled fingers of his right hand he stroked Chairman Meow, who was in his lap, and in his left he swished a glass of what looked like Scotch (at two o'clock in the afternoon, Alec noted). He tilted his head and quirked one black eyebrow at the new arrival.

"Hello, Alexander."

Alec let out a puff of breath and gestured around him. "Should I even ask?"

"There's absolutely no need." Magnus stretched his long legs out in front of him, upsetting Chairman Meow and causing the feline to leap away with a yawl of protest. "I will explain. You see, Alexander, my sweet, while I find your array of formless, colorless, faded, frayed, and in some cases hideously disfigured attire adorable in its own little way, I think it is time for us to go shopping. Just so you can have at least _one _decent outfit."

Alec took a moment to assess Magnus's wardrobe. The warlock was adorned in tight jeans that showed more skin than they covered, studded randomly with ruby rhinestone. His shoes were heeled black boots that only made Magnus look taller, if that was even possible. His shirt was a loose tank top of a creamy white color, a picture of the British flag on the front. Around his slim wrists, throat, and hooked in his ears was jewelry in a variety of shapes, sizes, colors, and materials. Alec wondered for a moment if he should be concerned that his boyfriend wore more jewelry and makeup than his sister did (he had noticed that Magnus went through a stick of eyeliner a week, and shuddered to think about the subsidy he set aside solely for glitter), but dismissed the thought in favor of continuing the conversation with Magnus.

"And what, exactly, is your definition of decent?"

Magnus considered this. "Something relatively stylish, new, and colorful."

"Define 'stylish'? And 'new.' Might as well do 'colorful' while you're at it."

"Very funny, Alexander," said Magnus, although he did not sound at all amused. "_You _may not see the importance in owning a piece of clothing that doesn't look like you fished it out of a Dumpster beside a nunnery, but I certainly do. So it doesn't matter what you think or want in this case. Now be a good little boyfriend and let me buy you some clothes."

"A nunnery? I don't think it's nearly _that _droll," Alec objected, looking down at himself. "Maybe a Dumpster beside a super-secret spy organization, or something."

"Is that really the look you're going for?" Magnus inquired with a smirk. "I hate to break it to you, dear, but spies don't wear sweaters."

"How do you know?"

"Montreal isn't important," Magnus dismissed with a wave of his hand, though Alec didn't recall bringing up Montreal in the first place. "What's important is that you do this for me. Please, darling? Just one little shopping spree?"

Alec frowned. "Well, I don't see what's wrong with what I'm wearing."

"You really don't want me to respond to that," Magnus warned.

"...Fine," Alec finally relented, bestowing much glee upon Magnus's expression. The warlock cheered and stood up in one fluid movement, the glass immediately gone from his grip as he made to embrace his compliant boyfriend. Alec held up a finger to silence him. "But wait. Only one outfit, that's it. And nothing too outrageous. No glitter, no rhinestone, no animal print, no sheer, no fish net, no leather pants, no heels, no fur, no sequins, no spandex, and absolutely no pink of any shade. And I'm not getting any piercings or tattoos or hair dyes or makeup."

"You just suck the fun out of everything, don't you?" Magnus pouted, slipping on a red leather jacket that stopped at his ribcage. "Very well, I will oblige to your request since you've agreed. But spandex, really? Who wears spandex anymore?"

"You'd be surprised," Alec remarked dryly, reminiscing on a woeful adventure in which Isabelle tricked him into entering a particularly exotic gay bar.

Magnus wisely decided not to pry, and instead ushered Alec out the door before he could change his mind.

* * *

Whilst walking hand-in-hand through the streets of New York with Magnus, Alec mentally prepared himself for the potentially scarring ordeal he had agreed to. As with anything fashion-related, it was certainly not going to be an easy venture. Isabelle had attempted multiple times to convince Alec to purchase trendy clothes, but then she was at a disadvantage when it came to methods of persuasion. Disembowlment became an empty threat after a while, but the promise of sex never lost its appeal.

So while shopping in itself was sure to torment him, Alec was looking forward to reaping the benefits. It was Magnus after all; it couldn't be _that _bad, and if it was surely it would be worth the trouble. Right?

Alec was seriously reconsidering his reasoning by the time they visited the fourth store.

The first two he'd refused to go in entirely. Magnus suggested that Alec chose the store, then, and quickly regretted the generous offer when they arrived at a moth-eaten thrift shop.

This fourth stop wasn't so bad, some sort of high-end department store that Alec already forgot the name of. He perused the isles while Magnus flounced away to pick out some things for Alec to try on. Curiously he tested the texture of a nice leather jacket (as he made the comparison he realized that his _was _rather scuffed) but blanched when he saw the price. He hoped that everything in this store wasn't so expensive. He hadn't planned on actually allowing Magnus to purchase his clothing, just pick it out, but he didn't have this kind of money...

"Do you like that? It's not bad, although it is practically the same as the one you have on. Just...newer. And cleaner." Alec turned to face Magnus, whose arms were piled high with a variety of vibrant garments. He raised his eyebrows.

"You want me to try all that on? I only said one outfit, remember?"

"You said I could only _buy _you one outfit," Magnus corrected. "You failed to restrict the number of things I could force you to try on."

"Magnus," Alec sighed, glancing at the price tag of a pair of jeans. "I'm not going to let you buy me anything. Especially if it's this expensive."

"Alexander," said Magnus, mocking Alec's tone. "Money is no object. One good outfit is probably...$150."

Alec gaped. "$150? I'm not letting you - "

"Money is no object, I've got plenty of it," Magnus repeated. "Not all of my clients have the special privileges I extend to you Nephilim. So try these on" - he shoved the miraculously organized outfits into Alec's arms - "and don't give me any lip about it."

"But - "

"Resistance is futile. I will get you into those clothes, Alexander, one way or another." He smiled devilishly, cracking his knuckles in a way that hinted at his expertise in forcing people to perform miscellaneous deeds in department store dressing rooms, and Alec deflated in defeat.

"Fine. But stop calling me Alexander. You sound like my mother."

"How about honey-buns?"

"Don't make me slap you."

Once within the safe confines of the dressing room, Alec shifted through the pile in search of something he would actually probably wear. Carelessly he chucked a pair of skinny jeans with bejeweled pockets, a vibrant red tank top, plaid shorts, a multitude of neon t-shirts, a pair of white boots, and a pinstripe suit out of the door. The discarded clothing formed a small mound at Magnus's feet.

"You're not even going to try them on?" the warlock complained. "I really want to see you in a suit! It's not even an offensive color."

"Magnus," said Alec, exasperated as he pulled off his black sweater, "it's _orange_."

"It is most certainly burnt sienna. We really need to brush up on your colors. Perhaps I'll get you a box of crayons too."

Alec stepped out of the dressing room, adorned in fashionable jeans and a light blue plaid button-down with gray and white accents. Magnus blinked, stunned into silence, as Alec shuffled uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"Well? Is it good enough?"

"That color really sets off your eyes," Magnus praised after he recovered. "And it's amazing what a good pair of jeans does for an ass."

"_Magnus!_"

"Relax, I was talking about your butt," Magnus reassured. "You're not an ass."

"I _knew _what you meant - can we just go home now, please?"

"Why don't you try on a few more things while I hunt down some shoes? Preferably ones that don't look like they're about to fall apart," Magnus compromised, giving Alec's boots a menacing glare. "Then we'll go home."

"There is nothing wrong with my shoes," Alec protested. "They are comfortable and functional."

"They're also an affront to the eyes."

Alec muttered, "I'll show you an affront to the eyes," but begrudgingly retreated back into the dressing room to try on the other articles of clothing, which included electric blue pants, a striped hoodie that would have been nice if it didn't say _I Heart New York _across the back, a t-shirt with _Born This Way_ written above a little roaring monster, and another pair of plaid shorts that Alec missed in his initial investigation.

Magnus came back and shoved a shoebox under the door. "Here, try these. They are sufficiently generic."

Alec opened the box and tried on the simple black dress shoes. "I like them."

"Of course you do. Now come out here so I can see the full effect."

He finished tying the shoes and stepped outside in his new outfit, where Magnus awaited with glowing approval. "It's a little subtler than I wanted, but I suppose this way everyone wins," Magnus said. "Besides, I've decided that seeing you in anything too extravagant would be rather strange."

"It would," Alec agreed.

"To make it up to you..." Magnus held out the leather jacket that Alec had inspected earlier. "I got this for you so you can get rid of that mangled tragedy you call a coat."

Alec scowled. "Magnus, I told you - "

"Don't spoil the moment! It's a very sweet one," the warlock snapped. His sharp demeanor changed into a small smile. "Here, love, try it on."

Alec shook his head and slipped his arms into the jacket while Magnus held it up. He stretched out his arms, easily sliding his hands into the pockets. Then he turned and shrugged his shoulders, bracing himself for the verdict.

Magnus grinned. "Utter perfection, darling. I knew all those episodes of _What Not To Wear _would eventually pay off." He slipped his arm through Alec's, ushering him out of the store. "Let's go. Don't worry, I've already paid for everything. And Alicia even gave me a discount! She is such a nice girl."

"But my old clothes - "

"Leave them. I know you have at least three more sweaters like that; you won't miss it." Magnus brightened up. "Let's go eat dinner at a restaurant that isn't Chinese take-out! A novel idea, isn't it?"

Alec gave him a look of astonishment. "Is that what all this was about? Eating at a nice restaurant?"

"I've already made reservations at my favorite seafood place," Magnus said. "Don't worry, the lobster is to die for."

"You're _unbelievable_," Alec declared as they stepped out into the drizzly evening, signalling for a taxicab.

"I know," said Magnus chipperly.

Suddenly, a car raced by and upset a formidable puddle camouflaged behind the curb in front of them. It heaved onto the sidewalk and splattered Alec with mud from head to toe. He blinked in dismayed bewilderment and spat the dirty water from his mouth. His new clothes were soiled.

Magnus peered from behind his shoulder with disappointment. "Even I didn't see that one coming. It looks like we'll be eating Chinese take-out again after all."


	7. C is for Cowboy

**Author's Note:** _Sorry for the delay, I'm busy busy. :P This was actually a chapter suggested by an anonymous reviewer, and since I couldn't come up with a good prompt for the letter C (my original prompt was going to be "cabs" after watching those Icebreaker mint commercials...I invisioned in my head a taxicab make-out scene between Magnus and Alec, but since I suck at smut I have no idea what I was thinking) and decided to use this one. Honestly, this is probably a short episode of pure crack but...well, whatever. I'll make up for it next time. ;)_

_I hereby disclaim every copyrighted thing mentioned in the following chapter...and Icebreaker mints, because I really don't want to get my ass sued off._

* * *

**C is for Cowboy**  
_"I happen to know Chuck Norris personally, and you shan't insult him in my presence."_

It was the king of lazy days, a sluggish span of twenty-four hours in which a person accomplishes absolutely nothing and makes every other day of their life seem incredibly successful by comparison. It was that day when the couch refused to relinquish its squishy, fluffy grip, when the temperature under the blanket was just warm enough without being stuffy, when the pillows were positioned exactly right and the mindless marathon of television shows were too compelling to abandon. It was when all this happened, all at once, and the thought of actually doing something productive was too much to handle.

They hadn't even risen from the couch, where they'd inevitably fallen asleep the night before after watching a miscellaneous array of timeless films that Magnus vehemently insisted left Alec's childhood inconclusive until he partook in them. Chairman Meow curled daintily in the dip that separated the lower half of their bodies, where he could procure the most warmth and feel the most encompassed.

By some unfortunate default the television had switched to the WGN America channel in the early hours of the morning, and they were too comfortable to upset the delicate balance of pillows by so much as twitching a finger. _Walker Texas Ranger_ wasn't unbearable, but the valiant Western hero's adventures weren't exactly to Alec's taste.

Magnus grinned as the bearded actor performed what he called a 'round-house kick' and knocked the shady antagonist into a table, shattering all the wood.

"That's improbable," said Alec critically, experienced in throwing demons (and occasionally Jace, when they were training and he became inexplicably irritating) into tables. "A sturdy table like that might tip over, but the wood wouldn't split in half."

"It's TV, dear," Magnus sighed. "And '70s TV at that. Go easy on them. Besides, anything is possible when it comes to Chuck Norris. Except his defeat."

"You know," Alec said with indifference, "I never really understood the big deal with Chuck Norris. He's just an actor, right? Simon treats him like he's some kind of god."

Magnus turned so he was facing Alec, who was taken back at the look of disgust the warlock was giving him. "I cannot believe you just said that. Chuck Norris is unadulterated power manifested into a human form. It is said that he possesses the force of one hundred hurricanes in only his pinkie. He is capable of obliterating the entire universe with a single round-house kick. He eats bullets for breakfast and uses a toothpick forged from pure iron to pick the bits out of his teeth. The static electricity from his beard could power the entire East Coast. There isn't a single word to describe Chuck Norris other than his own name."

"...I think you might be exaggerating," Alec deadpanned.

"Not even a little," Magnus protested. He looked enthralled with his testimony, rapidly shaking his head up and down in assent. It was hurting Alec's shoulder a bit.

Yet he didn't feel like relenting. "There's no way that a mundane could do all that."

"Chuck Norris isn't an ordinary mundane," Magnus explained. "He is exceptional and special in every way."

"Really?" Alec drawled sarcastically. "Well, according to Luke and Clary, Bruce Lee could hand Chuck Norris's ass to him any day."

This outrage was enough to galvanize Magnus into motion. He shot into an upright position and glared at Alec even as Chairman Meow jumped five feet into the air and landed upon his lap with claws equipped for battle. The cat hissed temperamentally when he realized that there was no danger and leaped in a graceful arch off the couch, treading into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Blasphemy!" Magnus declared. "What kind of people have you been consorting with, Alexander? Don't let them tell you such lies!"

"Their words, not mine. But still, how do you know Bruce Lee wouldn't win? From those movies you made me watch he seems pretty capable."

Magnus gestured wildly to the television screen, but it was on a commercial. "Chuck Norris is capable! And this is him going easy on people."

"It's also scripted."

"So are all of Bruce Lee's movies! And Chuck Norris is a certified in martial arts."

"I dunno...Bruce Lee seems pretty tough."

Magnus's mouth shrank into a hard line. He tossed his head. "I happen to know Chuck Norris personally, and you shan't insult him in my presence."

"You _do not_ know Chuck Norris personally," Alec stated without infliction.

"Begone, foul incubus! Your soul is contaminated. You shan't tempt me with your flirtatious challenge!" Magnus glanced down at Alec's shirtless torso. "Or impressive musculature."

"I'm not sure what's more ridiculous," Alec considered. "The fact that you've used the word 'shan't' twice within the span of two minutes or that you're actually banishing me for suggesting that Bruce Lee might - "

"Don't even say it," Magnus hissed in warning.

" - that Bruce Lee might beat Chuck Norris in a - "

Magnus administered one quick tap to the middle of Alec's forehead, and with a small burst of blue sparks the Shadowhunter's head lolled to the side as he sank into unconsciousness. The warlock let out a little breath of relief. He glanced at Chairman Meow who, upon discovering that no one had followed him into the kitchen to pour food into his bowl, came back to investigate the delay.

"Don't look at me like that," Magnus sniffed. "I had to do it. There's no telling what would happen if he finished that sentence. I really don't want to waste my one personal favor from Chuck Norris on Alec's stubbornness."

The cat just blinked. Why wasn't his person coming to serve him breakfast?

"Now," Magnus continued, dramatically throwing the covers away and standing up in one fluid movement. "Chairman Meow, you hold down fort. I need to go knock some sense into a certain redheaded girl and her mother's werewolf boyfriend."

* * *

Alec blinked his bleary eyes. The room spun violently around him. He gripped the edge of the couch, fighting down a surge of nausea. Vaguely he realized the colorful blur around him was the interior of Magnus's apartment. _By_ _the Angel_, he cursed to himself, _what the hell happened?_

He sat up on his elbows once the room became stationary. Magnus was nowhere in sight which, considering the circumstances, was probably not a good thing.

Chairman Meow appeared from behind the television. He walked on his hind legs, his snowy front paws resting on the holster of the shiny leather belt at his waist. The cat peered at Alec from under the rim of the light brown ten-gallon hat on his head, revealing the brick-colored beard bushing out from his chin.

"_Mow?_" he said inquiringly. Even his quiet mew had a Southern twang to it.

Alec blinked, tilted his head, and blinked again. The cat remained the same, his bright green eyes staring, it seemed, straight into the depths of Alec's soul. "Chairman Meow," he groaned, "I don't suppose you can tell me what the hell Magnus doped me up on?"

Chairman Meow reached in his beard and procured a small gray mouse dressed in white cotton clothes with a black sash tied around his waist. Again, Alec blinked. Was it just him, or was there something distinctly Asian about the mouse?

Alec sank back into the pillows and threw an arm over his eyes. His head was pounding. He was going to go back to sleep, even if he had to ignore the sounds of Chairman Meow battling the mouse in martial-arts get-up to do so.


	8. V is for Victim

_**Author's Note:** Extra long chapter I promised you guys! :) I just found out that they're coming out with a _Mortal Instruments_ movie! What does everyone think of the cast? Most of them are British (because Cassie Clare hales from England, you think?) so I don't know many of them from anything my sorry American butt has watched. But just by appearance I like who they've picked...except Magnus. I'm a little apprehensive about Magus. But then it's going to be hard for anyone to capture Magnus's essence. I just know that they better not cut any Malec out of the movie, or I might have to start a riot._

* * *

**V is for Victim:**  
_Magnus has been the Lightwoods' visitor before, but never as "the boyfriend."_

There were very few modern rituals that Magnus was unfamiliar with. The constant stream of easily accessible information and resources that the twenty-first century was founded on educated him in various ways, through experience or otherwise. There was very little that Magnus would not try just for the sole purpose of trying it.

Meeting his boyfriend's family, however, was something he hadn't prepared for.

He'd already _met _all of them of course, on various occasions. Those occasions were usually on a strictly professional basis. Like any respectable Nephilim, the Lightwoods did not openly associate with Downworlders unless it was necessary. Particularly not flamboyant, powerful warlocks who charged an excruciating amount for his services and left a trail of glitter in his wake.

So when Alec informed him that his parents had formally invited him to the Institute for dinner, Magnus was thoroughly stunned. He had numerous questions he'd liked to have asked ("Crap, what did I do this time? They didn't see that text I sent you last week, did they? Are they administering some kind of restriction on the amount of glitter that Downworlders can buy?") but the first thing he blurted out was simply, "_Why?_"

Alec shrugged. Evidently he was unimpressed with his parents' request. "They want to get to know you better, I guess. Since we're dating. It was actually Isabelle's idea, but I don't think she'd intended for them to take it seriously. They were ragging on her about sneaking off to go to some werewolf party, and somehow she managed to steer the conversation to the two of us and how they apparently should redirect some of the interest they've invested into her personal life to mine."

"And that _worked_?"

"By the Angel, no. She's grounded for two weeks, and raising hell about it too. I don't think she can go an hour without telling someone how unfair her life is." Alec sighed at Isabelle's childishness. His superiority complex concerning his younger siblings was one thing that Magnus found extremely amusing, while others found it extremely irritating. He was, after all, barely two years older than his sister. But Isabelle also had a maturity about her and Alec had an innocent nativity that made the gap seem even less significant.

"Don't patronize her," Magnus warned. "Being a sixteen-year-old girl can be tragically devastating. I've watched enough reality television to know."

Alec rolled his eyes. "_Anyway_, they were thinking about tomorrow night. What do you say? We're having lasagna."

Magnus grinned. As if the menu would influence his decision. "Isabelle isn't cooking, is she?"

"We make an effort _not _to poison our guests the first time they come over for dinner."

"Then I'll be there."

* * *

The next morning Magnus rose exceptionally early to prepare for his dinner with the Lightwoods. He was surprisingly excited about this opportunity. Not necessarily to get to know them better (he was fairly certain he knew most of them relatively well) but because of the implications of the invitation. Alec was an anomaly in the Nephilim world. A lot of Shadowhunters trifled with Downworlders, but there were few who actually developed serious relationships with them. And Magnus only heard of two other gay Shadowhunters in his lifetime, both of whom remained closeted until they were well into their fifties and on the brink of retirement. The fact that Alec was dating a gay warlock was big, very big, especially in the esteemed Lightwood family. After kissing him in the Accords Hall, Alec often pretended like his parents' opinion didn't bother him. Magnus knew it did.

So that they were inviting him over for dinner to scrutinize him was both terrifying and satisfying. It indicated that Maryse and Robert were setting aside their prejudices and were prepared to accept Magnus as a viable replacement for whatever Nephilim girl they'd secretly hoped would catch Alec's eye. If, of course, the warlock met their standards, which would be nearly impossible to meet.

But Magnus was willing to try if it would put Alec's mind at ease.

He showered and scrubbed all the makeup and glitter from his face. Wrapped in a towel, he spent nearly two hours picking out his outfit. He wanted to be subtle, but not too formal, and not too casual. The Lightwoods had seen his fabulous outfits in the past, but recently he had stuck to gray suits in their presence to show Alec he could behave.

Eventually he decided on khakis (which he didn't even know why he owned), a white button-down collared shirt, a blue-and-gold striped tie (for a spot of color) and loafers. He wore no makeup, no glitter, and his hair remained tamed.

When he went to pet Chairman Meow, the cat hissed and ran from his outstretched hand.

"Yes, I know," he sighed miserably. He could already tell it was going to be a dismal night.

Alec arrived early in the afternoon. When he spotted Magnus and assessed his wardrobe, he raised his eyebrows. "Magnus, what are you wearing?"

"You don't like it? I thought that it was very parent-appropriate. It's the tie, isn't it? Too much pop? I can go get another one."

"No, that's not what I mean." Alec stepped forward and loosened Magnus's tie with a smirk. "You don't have to dress like a middle-aged accountant to meet my parents. They already know all about you and your...antics. They want to get to know the real you, even if it means they consume a bit of rogue glitter with their pasta. Just be yourself, okay?"

Magnus smiled as Alec unknotted the tie with a sharp tug. He wrapped his arms around the Shadowhunter's neck and purred, "I might need some help getting undressed," in his ear.

"It would be my pleasure," Alec chuckled. He began to unbutton Magnus's shirt with practiced fingers. He fumbled when the warlock tugged on his earlobe with his sharp teeth and let out an involuntary noise.

"You might have to tell your parents we're going to be a little late," Magnus murmured, deftly unbuttoning Alec's pants.

"But...dinner's not until six."

Magnus smirked. He backed the Shadowhunter against the wall, probably with more force than necessary, and said against his mouth, "Yes, I _know_."

* * *

Alec led Magnus down the path to the Institute at ten minutes before seven o'clock. He'd called Isabelle sometime around five-thirty to tell her that Magnus was caught up in some dangerously volatile negotiations with a group of vampires and werewolves and would be late. He could almost hear her rolling her eyes over the phone, but she said that she'd lie to their parents for him. Magnus expressed his thanks before Alec had to hang up.

Magnus changed, eventually, into his usual eccentric attire, although he did tone it down. His tight jeans were without rips or tears, his shiny black button-down only showed a little of his chest, most of which was obscured by silver jewelry. His belt was black with purple studs, to match his purple high tops and amethyst rings.

As a reflex Magnus tried to pull his hand out of Alec's as they neared the entrance, but Alec just entwined their fingers with a smile. "It's okay," he said. Magnus wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort.

Alec pushed the door open and tugged Magnus inside. No one was waiting for them except for a blue Persian cat three times the size of Chairman Meow. Magnus looked around the open cathedral. Not much had changed since his last visit. To him it would always be a dusty old church and remind him of his father, like all dusty old churches did. He hoped that the rest of the Institute wouldn't be so obviously holy.

"Church," Alec said, addressing the cat, "show us where everyone is, please."

The cat jumped up and padded away. Magnus gave Alec a look. "Did you just say 'please' to your cat?"

"He's very temperamental," Alex explained as they followed the feline. "He gets all huffy if you don't. Takes you to the wrong people."

The 'everyone' that Alec requested turned out to be Maryse, cooking in the kitchen. Magnus was utterly baffled. When Alec had said his mother was cooking dinner, the warlock pictured her in her usual black Shadowhunter garb with her hair in a sharp bun, savagely chopping vegetables with a lethal clever. He never envisioned a domestic Maryse, but she was standing right in front of him, pulling bread sticks out of the oven. She was dressed in a light blue skirt and white blouse, her hair braided and flung over her shoulder, wearing oven mitts and an apron. Magnus quite literally felt his jaw drop.

"We're here, Mom," Alec said. Maryse looked up from the bread and set it on the stove. She didn't beam warmly at Magnus, but then again he hadn't expected her to. She did remove an oven mitt and reach out a hand for him to shake.

"Magnus Bane, I'm glad you could make it," she said. "Alec, will you go get the others and tell them that the lasagna is almost done? Tell Robert to set the table for our guest."

_She's just as commanding at home as she is on the field_, Magnus observed dryly, watching with a sense of mild panic as Alec let go of his hand and turned down the hallway to fulfill his mother's ordinance.

It was only him and Maryse in the kitchen. Alone. Together. Magnus felt the urge to transport all the knives somewhere else for safekeeping.

She went back to the bread sticks and arranged them on a platter. The lasagna must have still been in the oven. "That smells amazing," Magnus said with genuine honesty. "I can't tell you the last home cooked meal I had. I appreciate you inviting me."

"Well, Robert and I realized that we know very little about you considering you've been...involved...with our son for a number of months," Maryse deadpanned. "We figured that this would be a good solution to that problem."

"Right," Magnus said awkwardly. "I'd like to apologize for that. Keeping it a secret. Alec didn't want me to say anything..."

"No, it is I who should be apologizing," Maryse said. Her busy hands stopped for a moment, poised over the bread. "I always realized that the Nephilim could be judgemental, but I never thought my son would be too afraid of his own family's scorn to admit to us that he was...interested in other men. I'll admit it's taken some adjustment, but we've come to accept it." She looked Magnus in the eye, setting her shoulders. "I confess, I'm proud of him. It must have taken a lot of courage for him to do what he did, knowing the possible consequences. I hope that you realize this also, Magnus."

"I do," Magnus acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "That's why I respected his wishes, and I don't hold it against him."

"He cares for you," Maryse said. "Very much. More than I've seen him care for anyone other than his own family. And he's happier now than I've ever known him to be."

Magnus smiled. "I know, Maryse. I love him, too."

"I should hope that you do," said Maryse, stroking the handle of a kitchen knife with her finger. "Because I assure you that if you break my son's heart, I will track you down and administer every form of torture I know again and again until you are nothing more than a trembling blob of ichor and glitter, Accords or no Accords. Do I make myself clear, Magnus Bane?"

Magnus can honestly say that he had never been more terrified of anyone in his entire life, mainly because he believed her threat to be genuine. Maryse Lightwood didn't bluff. He could only nod as she began chopping up tomatoes for the salad. The juice was an ominous familiar red.

Alec chose that moment to pop his head back inside the kitchen. "Everyone's at the table, Mom."

"Fantastic. Help me carry these in, will you?"

Alec nodded and took the bread from his mother. He offered Magnus the salad and frowned. "Are you feeling okay? You look pale."

"Fine," Magnus rasped, clearing his throat as he took the salad bowl. "It must just be the lighting in here. Come, introduce me to the rest of your family."

Alec shrugged and led the way out of the room. Maryse narrowed her eyes at Magnus as they left, the knife in her hand flashing dangerously. He scurried after Alec, nearly running into his back as they entered the dining room.

The table was large and ornate oak, beautifully crafted with intricate designs of lions and angels. The chandelier in the center was cut crystal, sparkling in the witchlight. There were ten seats. At the head of the table sat the stoic, silent form of Robert Lightwood, who regarded Alec and Magnus as they arrived with disinterested eyes. To his left was Isabelle Lightwood. She grinned and winked when she saw Magnus, but strangely enough this didn't make him feel any more welcome. Jace was stationed next to Isabelle, his arm draped casually across the back of the chair. He grinned and clapped his hands together when they entered with the food. "Finally! I'm starving!"

Alec slapped his hand when he reached for the bread. "Wait until Mom brings the lasagna in."

"But I'm hungry!" Jace complained as Alec set the bread down and took his place across from his _parabatai_. Magnus took the seat next to him. He realized he was still hugging the salad bowl and set that down with the bread. "We should have eaten an hour ago."

"Magnus was caught up in some warlock business that couldn't be avoided," Alec lied with surprising ease. Magnus wondered how often he used this excuse, and if his parents knew they were even sexually active.

Isabelle snorted.

"Yes, I was curious about that," Robert said earnestly, looking frankly at his guest. "How did those negotiations go?"

"Negotiations?" Magnus repeated blankly. Alec raised his eyebrows at him and nudged his foot under the table, unaware of the fact that playing footsies wasn't helping Magnus think any clearer. "Oh, right, those. Yes. Between the Night's Children and the Children of the Moon."

"Right," Robert slowly enunciated. "What was the argument about?"

"The vampires had reason to believe that the lycanthropes sabotaged their bikes, and wanted compensation for the damages," Magnus said. It was something that happened all the time anyway. "Quite dull, really, but you know how they are."

"Sounds dull," Jace drawled with a smirk at Alec. "An absolute bore."

Alec flushed and narrowed his eyes. Magnus grinned brilliantly. "It wasn't _that _dull. There were definitely some heated moments. Times when I could barely keep up. They were really going to town."

Alec dropped his head in his hands.

"I'm sure," Isabelle remarked. "Those vampires and werewolves are _always_ ready to lay into each other."

"Oh, _always_ ready. And sometimes it goes on for days at a time without any reprieve. The responsibilities of a warlock are very, very hard, but I manage."

"The Downworlders are lucky to have someone as helpful as you are," Isabelle continued, maintain a straight face. "I'm sure you're willing to bend over backwards to give them what they need."

"I can't take all the credit. My clients are very compliant, and usually willing to try anything to settle the negotiation."

Robert was oblivious to the hidden context behind this conversation, even as his daughter stifled giggles and his son was as red as the tomatoes in the salad. "What was the outcome of these negotiations?"

"Beneficial for both parties," Magnus replied. "In fact, one would almost say - "

Magnus was interrupted by the arrival of Maryse with a huge lasagna in her arms. She placed it on the table and sat down between her husband and Alec. "Finally ready. Everyone, dig in!"

They obliged eagerly. Maryse frowned and felt Alec's forehead as he emerged from his hands. "You're a bit feverish, Alec. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, it's - it's nothing."

The table was silent as they loaded their plates with lasagna. Magnus was uncomfortable; every time he glanced up from his plate, one of the Lightwoods looked away quickly as if they had stared at him. Once he caught them all doing it.

Once the silence became unbearable, Robert steered the conversation back to the fake negotiations. "So, how often do you handle these kinds of things between Downworlders?"

Alec nearly choked on a bread stick. Isabelle giggled hysterically, earning a look of strict rebuttal from her mother. Even Jace was having trouble keeping composure as Alec's face once again colored.

"Well, it depends on the circumstances of course, but I'd say usually four or five times a week," Magnus answered. It was clear to everyone except Maryse and Robert that Magnus was not talking about negotiations between vampires and werewolves at this point. "In fact, sometimes multiple times a day."

Maryse raised her eyebrows. "Wow. That's a lot."

"Vampires and werewolves have never been able to leave each other alone. They're always looking for an excuse to tussle. More than once they've made something up just to end up at my doorstep."

"I'm getting some water," Alec mumbled, standing up. "Does anyone else want anything?" He didn't really wait for an answer; in his haste to flee, he tripped over the leg of his chair and nearly face-planted into a wall. Magnus watched him leave with amusement. Alec was so cute when he got all flustered.

"No offense, Bane," Robert continued, shaking his head at his son's bizarre behavior, "but don't you think that these negotiations are better attended to by us?"

Jace and Isabelle simultaneously made a noise that faintly reminded Magnus of a hippopotamus in labor. Maryse slammed her hand down on the table. "What has gotten into you two today?" she snapped at them. "You're being incredibly rude to our guest."

"It's quite alright, Maryse," Magnus assured. Only centuries of practice ensured his composure, and even that façade was beginning to slip. "And I think that negotiations handled by Downworlders are best left to me. They're too trivial for the Nephilim. And if there were ever a problem out of my hands, I would certainly contact you."

This statement had not a stroke of truth, but Magnus decided that he had sufficiently entertained Alec's siblings with the intimate details of their sex life and spared his poor boyfriend from further mortification once he entered the room with a glass of water. Alec's head and shirt front were damp, which aroused enough curiosity to end the previous topic of discussion.

"Alexander..." Maryse said slowly. "Why are you wet?"

Alec seemed to think that the best course of action was denial. "What? I'm not wet."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

Everyone could clearly see that Alec _was _wet. Magnus pinched the saturated fabric of his god-awful sweater between his fingers when the Shadowhunter sat back down. "Then how do you explain this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Will someone pass the bread sticks?"

They decided to drop it, as Alec was obviously not going to talk. After everyone had finished eating and they were gathering the dirty dishes, Magnus commended Maryse on her cooking skills. Indeed, the lasagna tasted as good as it smelled. It was better even than Magnus's favorite Italian joint.

"Thank you," Maryse said, flattered. "It's my grandmother's recipe."

"She wouldn't let me help," Isabelle pouted.

"That's because she doesn't want to poison Magnus," Jace said. He gave the warlock a once-over with raised eyebrows. "Yet."

"You know what, you act all high and mighty but I don't ever see you in the kitchen," Isabelle retorted. "Why don't you go put on an apron and try it for yourself. Then you'll see it's not as easy at it looks."

"But, Izzy, there's the difference between you and me. I admit to myself that I'm a horrible cook. You have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that we only bash your cooking out of affection, which is most certainly _not _the case. We bash it because it deserves bashing."

"And out of affection," Alec added.

"But mostly the first one," Jace insisted.

"It's a shame, Jace," Magnus sighed with exaggerated remorse. "You would look absolutely _fetching _in an apron."

The words had slipped out unchecked, and only after an awkward silence pervaded the room did Magnus realize that such comments might not be acceptable in front of the Lightwoods' parents. He'd only meant it as a joke (it was admittedly true, although Magnus would rather see Alec in nothing but an apron), but it had caused evident discomfort. Perhaps the Lightwoods didn't like the reminder that Magnus and, by association, Alec were gay.

Jace deflated the tension by saying, "You know, you're right. I _would _look good in an apron."

Maryse and Robert took the soiled dishes into the kitchen. Magnus slumped back into his chair, uncharacteristically embarrassed. "Well, that was awkward," he said.

"Don't worry, you're doing great!" Isabelle encouraged.

"No, no, he's not!" Alec hissed. He converged on Magnus, looking scandalized. "What the hell were you _thinking_? 'Sometimes they make stuff up just to end up on my doorstep'?! I can't believe you would - and right in front of my parents - "

Magnus gave him a blank look. "Alec, darling, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Alec made an obscene gesture, face aflame.

"Speaking of which," Jace chuckled, "why did you come in here all wet?"

"I was...I took a cup of water and splashed it in my face," Alec muttered, hanging his head. He scowled when the others cracked up even harder. "Shut up! My judgment was compromised!"

"By _what_? A huge - "

Jace abruptly stopped talking as Maryse strode into the room. "Brownies or pie for dessert?"

"What kind of pie?"

"Apple."

The vote was unanimous. "Pie it is," Maryse said. "Robert is going to help me. Why don't you three go show Magnus around the Institute? We'll call you when it's done."

"I'm pretty sure you've seen most of what there is to see," Isabelle observed. "They must want us out of here so they can talk about you in peace."

"Well that's comforting," said Magnus dryly.

"Come on, we'll go to Alec's room! Have you seen that yet?"

"No, we really shouldn't go to Alec's room." It was no surprise that Alec himself was the one to argue. "Alec's room isn't clean, and Alec is pretty sure that Magnus has already seen his room."

"Once," Magnus snorted. "And Magnus doesn't think that counts, because he was too absorbed in healing Alec than looking around. Magnus agrees with Isabelle."

"Jace thinks we should stop talking in third person."

"You're out numbered, Alec," Isabelle quipped, grabbing Magnus's hand and skipping with him toward the elevator. "We're invading your room, whether you like it or not!"

"Hey! Wait, technically Jace didn't vote!"

"Yes, Jace did. Because Isabelle will talk in third person if Jace isn't on her side."

"Blackmail...I respect that," Jace said. He clapped a hand on his _parabatai'_s shoulder. "Sorry, Alec, you're on your own."

Grumbling, Alec followed them into the elevator and up to his room. It wasn't really messy (he'd expected such a maneuver from Isabelle and/or Magnus, although he'd hoped that his uncleanliness would deter them) but it was embarrassing. Unlike Magnus's apartment's harmonious mold of modern and antique, Alec's room looked like something out of a home decor magazine whose primary subscribers were stuffy old men.

There wasn't much in the way of furniture: just twin bed shoved in a corner with a practical wooden nightstand, a dresser, and a desk. The bed was covered with a bedraggled quilt, faded sheets, and two pillows that needed replacing about three years ago. Around the desk were stacks of delicate leather-bound books that bored Magnus just by looking at them. They were probably mythology or battle tactics or demon anatomy. He had never once known Alec to read something _entertaining_. The walls were a nondescript beige, and the curtains hanging over the windows were plain navy blue cotton.

Isabelle sashayed over to the bed and flopped down on it as though it belonged to her. "So," she said, gesturing widely around her. "What do you think?"

"Everything makes sense now," Magnus said. Alec gave him a look. He was seriously regretting ever inviting the warlock over for dinner. Magnus grinned. "I'm only _teasing_, Alexander. You're usually not so serious at the apartment." He paused and considered the area. "You know what? I like it. It screams...you."

"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended," Alec deadpanned.

"You should be flattered," Magnus said, pecking Alec's cheek. "You're very likable in a quaint sort of way."

"No PDA!" Isabelle chastised in mock seriousness.

Alec gave her a look of confusion. "What is 'PDA'?"

"Public Displays of Affection?" Isabelle exclaimed, as though it were common knowledge. She turned on Magnus. "Haven't you taught him anything?"

"More than you could ever know," Magnus said, earning a slap from Alec.

"Shouldn't it be 'PDOA'?" Jace inquired.

"Please, everyone knows that the 'of' is never included in acronyms."

"Why not? I'm sure that 'of' and 'the' and 'and' all feel neglected. How would you feel if you were left out all the time?"

"Jace, they're words. They don't have emotions," Alec said.

"But I'm sure that if they did they would understand and accept their sacrifice for the good of society," Magnus piped up.

"Oh! Hey, Magnus, you want to see something?" Isabelle reached into the drawer of Alec's nightstand, causing her brother to protest vehemently. She pulled out a framed photograph of Magnus and Alec in front of the Eiffel Tower. Magnus was, for once, without a costume. "He says it's his favorite!"

"_Izzy!_" Alec hissed as Magnus examined the photograph.

"Aw, how adorable," Magnus cooed. "I have this same one pinned to the wall in my ingredients room. Hey, in this picture you're wearing the clothes that we first met in."

"What, that sweater and jeans he wears every Friday?" Jace snorted. Alec made an unattractive face and snatched the photograph, depositing it back into his nightstand.

"That was a great party," Isabelle lamented. "You know, until Simon turned into a rat and got kidnapped by a coven of vampires. That part kind of sucked."

"Out of my jurisdiction," Magus disclaimed. "But I'm glad you enjoyed the actual party. It was one of my better ones before you Nephilim showed up. No offense."

"None taken," Isabelle said. "Investigations are a buzz kill."

"You know, there's one thing that's always bothered me about that night," Jace interjected thoughtfully. He turned to Magnus and pointed at Alec. "Why him?"

Magnus blinked. "I don't think I know quite what you mean."

"Why'd you decide to flirt with him?" Jace clarified. "I mean...why not me? You didn't know I wasn't gay. You could've gotten with all _this_." He gestured down at his physique enticingly.

There it was: the second awkward silence for the night. Magnus pursed his lips in consideration. "Have you ever heard of this thing called a 'Gaydar'?"

"No."

"Well, then we'll call it a gay man's intuition." Magnus grinned and threw his arm over Alec's shoulders. "Besides, how could I pass up an opportunity like all _this_?"

Alec just shook his head, blushing. Robert Lightwood poked his head in and, after narrowing his eyes a little at the arrangement, cleared his throat and declared that the pie was ready. The group migrated into the kitchen were Maryse was cutting a succulent apple pie and scooping some vanilla ice cream. She passed everyone a bowl.

"This is amazing!" Magnus exclaimed after his first bite.

Maryse actually laughed. "I'm glad you like it. This one is a recipe that Robert's mother gave me. It's easy. Alec knows how to make it; I'm surprised he hasn't made it for you yet. It's one of his favorites."

"Oh, sure," Isabelle sniffed. "Show Alec how to cook, but you won't show me."

"Isabelle, darling, I tried. But even under my supervision the pie somehow managed to acquire a strange purple color."

Jace perked up. "I remember that one! Church wouldn't even eat it!"

"You feed your cat rancid pie?" Magnus said. He glanced at the Persian in question, who was sprawled on the kitchen floor watching them eat the delectable desert jealously. "How do you do it, Church?"

Everyone laughed as the cat rolled over on his stomach. Alec caught Magnus's eye and smiled, a smile that said he had passed whatever implied test the Lightwoods had designed for him. The warlock felt a shocking wave of relief. Then he sighed. When did the opinions of uptight Shadowhunters start bothering him?

He figured out the answer when Alec's hand slid across the kitchen counter and curled around his own.


	9. J is for Jugs

_**Author's Note:** Yet another milestone: I've read the online short story by Cassie Clare about Magnus and Alec's first kiss! It was about the cutest thing ever. If you haven't read it yet, you definitely should. Just Google "Kissed" Cassandra Clare and her Tumblr should pop up._

_This chapter...well, it's something a little lighthearted and silly. There's some references I added from the last chapter at last minute too. There's also a slight reference to _Infernal Devices_...let me know if you catch it. Hope you guys enjoy and don't think me too cheesy. :P_

* * *

**J is for Jugs:**  
_Of the milk variety._

Most people don't realize just how infuriating their significant other can be until they start living together.

Alec was staggeringly tolerant of Magnus's many bizarre idiosyncracies. He didn't mind the usually cataclysmic state of the apartment after the wild Downworlder parties. He wasn't fazed by the explosions in the kitchen that were sometimes the result of potions, sometimes of experimental Thai recipes. He didn't care that Magnus watched _Project Runway_ religiously, or that he always had to have the last word in an argument, or that he devoted an entire closet to accessories alone. Alec considered these things part of Magnus and learned to love them accordingly, even if he was on the brink of mauling someone in the process.

For all of his quirks, it was Magnus who was having trouble adjusting to Alec's constant presence in his apartment. He hadn't lived with someone other than Chairman Meow in over a century. As such, he was accustomed to having things exactly as he wanted them. Magnus was organized the way that a teenager is organized: at first glance there was no organization, but inexplicably he always knew where to find whatever it was he was looking for. Unless, of course, _someone _moved something in an attempt to bring order to the apartment.

In such occasions as these, Alec claimed that he was doing Magnus a favor. "This place is a wreck!" he'd exclaim. "I don't know how you can stand it sometimes."

"It's not my fault you're a neurotic neat-freak," Magnus would sniff, picking at his lacquered nails. "I like my things where they are. If you ever need help finding anything, just let me know and I'll conjure it up for you."

"That's not the point," Alec would groan, but he wouldn't bother to elaborate on what exactly the point was. He knew it was a matter of principle. A clean house just made everything feel better, fresher, and more open. The most infuriating thing for him was that Magnus could probably tidy everything up with a snap of his fingers, but was unwilling to do so because he was stubborn. Eventually Alec submitted and let the warlock wallow in his own sparkly filth.

Although this was a battle won, there were still many habits that the Shadowhunter had that Magnus knew he could never break him of. Habits that, for some reason or another, irked him to no end.

For instance, Alec always kept a stack of books by the bed and by the couch. A perilous stack of books. Books that oftentimes Magnus or Chairman Meow somehow tripped over. For the first time in his life, Magnus had experienced the feeling of stubbing his toe on the corner of a hard-cover book. It was not a nice feeling.

When he complained, Alec inspected the book in question and frowned. He pointed at a stain on the greenish leather of the unidentifiable animal that was unfortunate enough to make up the outside of the book. "You got blood on the _Encyclopedia monstrorum_. Do you know how enriching this book is? As a Shadowhunter, it's second only to the Holy Bible."

"Then what is it doing in my apartment?" Magnus inquired.

Alec shrugged and began rearranging his stack of novels, replacing the _Encyclopedia monstrorum_. "It's the French translation, _Encyclopedie des monstres_. I've got Latin at home."

The bickering proceeded to turn into a contest of who was the most fluent in French (they determined that while Alec had the language down, Magnus was superior in the kissing aspect). Most of these petty arguments _did_ result in a creative new sexual act, which almost made them worth it, but there was one thing that Magnus found most intolerable and that Alec did frequently, no matter how often Magnus reprimanded him.

He drank milk. Directly. From. The. Jug.

Magnus had tried subtle hints. Sometimes the milk would mysteriously disappear in the morning when there had clearly been a full jug in the refrigerator the night before. Sometimes a glass would appear next to it in that same refrigerator, a glass that Alec usually ignored. Often the warlock would alter the expiration date so that it said the milk was spoiled when it was not. Alec ignored this, also, so Magnus did the opposite. All that got him was a slurry of milk chunks and Alec's saliva in his sink, and one less cup of coffee.

Finally, on a bleary Tuesday morning, Magnus decided to take more assertive action.

It started with the promise of a lovely day. After a few hours of nuzzling and cuddling, they migrated to the kitchen once Chairman Meow's cries of hunger exceeded the noise stipulations of the apartment complex. Magnus fed his cat and hoisted himself on to the counter while Alec made omelets. Although Magnus could have easily conjured them up a gourmet breakfast, he liked the intimacy of Alec's cooking, watching him mozy around the kitchen and select ingredients for the meal they would eventually consume. Besides, he had yet to find a joint in New York that could cook an omelet just the way he liked it as Alec could. Chili powder, cheese, tomatoes, hash-brown, and just a pinch of onion, golden brown on both sides and crispy on the edges.

Alec poked his nose in the refrigerator and pulled out the milk as Magnus mixed up a few eggs in a bowl with a whisk. He saw it out of the corner of his eye and looked up. Almost in slow motion Alec unscrewed the blue plastic cap, considered the milk, and tipped the jug up toward his mouth.

Magnus acted on reflex. The milk jug exploded, spraying the white liquid in every direction. It splattered on the floor, sizzled on the hot surface of the stove, and splashed over the counter. Some even got on Magus all the way across the kitchen. But, mostly, the milk covered Alec from head to toe. He seemed more astonished than anything else, blinking milk out of his wide blue eyes as he assessed his sopping state. Slowly he shook milk from his hair and arms, liked his lips, and said blandly, "Magnus, do you have something against milk in your omelet? Because if you do, asking me to leave it out would have been a better approach."

"No," Magnus sighed, setting the bowl of eggs on the counter. "I'm terribly sorry, dear. That was something of an error on my part. Even the High Warlock of Brooklyn slips up occasionally."

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Alec pursued. He realized that the plastic handle of the jug was still in his grasp. That was all that remained of it. He held it up. "Let me guess: you're lactose intolerant and you're keeping it a secret so your enemies won't know your one weakness."

"Not quite," Magnus admitted with a hint of amusement. He hopped off of the counter and nearly slipped on the wet floor. The volume of a gallon seemed like much more when puddled over everything. "I've tried subtly hinting this before, but you never catch it..."

Alec gestured around. "Consider me caught."

"Well, to put it plainly, I have a little of a pet peeve against people drinking directly from the milk jug," Magnus explained.

"A little?"

"More than a little. It's just...I don't know. Disgusting."

"Magnus, it's not like I have demon pox or something," Alec scoffed. "And even if I did have a disease of that sort, contamination of the milk is the least of your worries."

"Hey," Magnus snapped, wagging a finger, "demon pox is no laughing matter. It's not your pathogens that gross me out. In fact, I quite like your pathogens."

"It's nice to know I have likable pathogens," said Alec dryly.

"I don't know why it bothers me, Alexander, but it just _does_," Magnus huffed, sensing the underlying question Alec left unspoken.

"Why didn't you just say so? If it bothers you so much, I'll stop doing it."

Magnus blinked. "Really?"

"Sure. It's no big deal. I'll use a glass." Alec looked around. "I'd rather the milk be in a glass than all over me, anyway."

Magnus smiled and slipped over to the dripping Shadowhunter, cupping his cheek. "Thank you, Alexander."

"Sure," Alec shrugged. "Next time something's bothering you, just tell me. There's no reason to start blowing stuff up."

"Point taken. Now, can we talk about those pesky boots of yours?"

Alec gave him a look. "Don't push your luck. I _am_ making you breakfast, after all. Speaking of which, would you mind cleaning this up? I don't want to smell like a dairy farm for the rest of the day."

"Certainly." Magnus snapped his fingers and the milk had disappeared. On the counter sat a new gallon. Chairman Meow, who had lapped some milk off of the floor, mewed dejectedly. Alec looked down and smiled as Magnus snapped his fingers with exasperation and a saucer of milk appeared next to the cat.

"You know, sometimes I love magic," he remarked.

"What's not to love?" Magnus occupied his seat on the counter, watching as Alec deliberately unscrewed the cap of the milk, poured some in the bowl, and placed it back in the refrigerator. He smirked. "I don't think it's entirely sanitary to cook without a shirt on, by the way."

Alec raised an eyebrow, looking down at his bare torso. "Are you complaining?"

"Not at all, just expressing some concern for the contamination of our food. You need to wear an apron, at least."

"You put me in an apron, and it won't be milk splattered all over this kitchen."

"That seems unnecessarily violent." Magnus grinned. "Challenge accepted."

"Wait, what do you mean - _Magnus_!" Alec chucked a frying pan at the laughing warlock as his pants transformed into a frilly pink apron. The warlock dodged it just as the Shadowhunter in the frilly apron lunged at him.

And so, yet another debate ended in a bizarre sexual act.


	10. P is for Pride

_**Author's Note:** Some angst! Keep in mind that while I know what happens in the City of Lost Souls, I still haven't read it, so everything might not be entirely accurate. _**Contains CoLS spoilers! **_Just this chapter though, promise. I do have to say though, I'm not very happy with this one. If anyone has any alternative ideas for P or if you find ways to improve this chapter, let me know. Let me know if you liked it and you don't want me to change it, too. :)_

* * *

**P is for Pride:**  
_They say that angels fall from pride. But Magnus is no angel._

The apartment was silent.

After Magnus told Alec to go collect his things and leave, he honestly hadn't believed that volume would be an issue. Alec didn't make much noise when he was there to begin with; he would curl up on the couch with a stuffy old book, or fall asleep on that same couch using Magnus's lap as a pillow, or entertain himself by sorting through the various objects in Magnus's home that the owner had no explanation for.

Magnus feared the loneliness most of all, the sorrow that came with the vacancy of someone you loved, and while those feelings were definitely present and accounted for, he'd had time to prepare himself for them. This crushing, suffocating silence? It was the last thing on his mind until he walked in and realized that it would be everlasting.

The television didn't help. Magnus wasn't interested in watching it. Not even _Project Runway _or_ What Not to Wear _could distract him. Stacy and Clinton's fashion tips did not reach his ears. They sounded so far away, so distant, and soon Magnus found his eyes glazing over as his mind wandered. Wandered into uncharted, churning waters.

So he turned to music. It was upbeat, completely at odds with his mood. He hoped in vain that it might lift his spirits, maybe get him into a partying mood, but it was only a cruel reminder of his own misery. He knew that the apartment would be empty of guests tonight.

Magnus changed the music, grabbed booze and a book, and sat down to read. If he couldn't thwart his melancholy, he might as well embrace it. As the tragic wail of a violin blared through the speakers, Magnus downed a bottle of very expensive wine and read the first line of a random book over and over for nearly five minutes before he realized it was a dictionary. Then he flung the book across the room, watched it hit the wall with a flutter of pages, and land with a heavy thump on the ground.

It felt really, _really _good.

Magnus usually wasn't one to destroy his own property in fits of rage. In fact, he wasn't one for fits of rage, period. Eight hundred years of life taught him that rage was better when refined into cold, calculated, systematic rationality. He was a self-preservative creature, because he knew from experience that no matter how good or pure a person was, they would _always _let him down eventually. Magnus understood that everyone had faults, even those he loved, so he forgave mistakes without blinking. But deep down he also understood that there was only one person in the world he could trust with everything.

And that person wasn't Alexander Lightwood.

Magnus hated that he had gone against what decades of hard lessons had taught him, that he had trusted Alec with his heart and his mind and everything he had. But isn't that what love did to a person?

A quote came to Magnus: _The definition of insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting a different result_.

Alec was flawed, he'd hurt Magnus on countless occasions, but he'd always done something to make up for it. He would reveal a beautiful side of himself that made Magnus want to drop everything and go right back to loving him.

This time, Magnus wasn't going to let that happen. He was tired of being brainwashed by this Shadowhunter. He should have listened to his initial instincts and stayed the hell away. The Nephilim were nothing but trouble.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to bestow fault among the Nephilim, he realized that he was as responsible for this tragedy as Alec. He let himself become Alec's shameful secret to begin with. He couldn't convince Alec of his true feelings, of this unparalleled love and devotion that bypassed his affection for Camille and even time itself. Alec didn't understand, he was much too young to understand. He thought that love faded with death, but Magnus knew he would love Alexander Lightwood forever, with his whole heart, no matter what happened. Even now. Even a thousand years from now.

But Magnus was a self-preservative creature, after all. He wanted to make sure he would be here in a thousand years to love Alec. He was a warlock and his mortality was his secret pride. Distantly, he remembered someone telling him the Biblical story of Lucifer, the angel who was too proud to bow to human Adam and was banished from Heaven as a result. Pride was a deadly sin. Angels fell from pride. But Magnus was no angel; in fact, he was the exact opposite. If there was one goddamn thing Magnus had been sure of, it was that he would be alive in a thousand years to love whomever he wanted, and he was proud of that. Alec, in his insecurity, had very nearly taken that pride away from him.

It _enraged _Magnus.

So he surrendered to momentary insanity. He threw the empty wine bottle to the ground, beat the air with his fists and screamed at the top of his lungs. Foul curses in every language flew from his lips with growing intensity and creativity. He grabbed the television and tipped it over, sending it crashing to the ground, then he blindly kicked at the carcass. His eyes prickled and burned, his throat clogged, and he felt the first hot tear drip down his cheek. When was the last time he'd cried? He'd forgotten what color his tears were.

A sob tore its way out of his mouth. It was accompanied by an uncontrollable episode of hysterics. Magnus could barely catch his breath. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe, the silence was there, closing in on him, suffocating him, stabbing him over and over and over.

He banged his fists against the wall with enough force to punch a whole in it, watched as white plaster fluttered to the ground and on his stylish black boots. Through his tears he realized that his fingertips had ignited. After his lungs finally started working, he looked around and realized that his apartment looked like the Fourth of July. Also, everything was levitating in mid-air.

Magic. Magnus was losing control of his magic.

His eyes burned with a new fervor as his temper flared for a second time. He clenched his fists, digging his long nails into the palms of his hands, trembling from head to toe. The things in the room were starting to spin, papers forming a massive tornado, lamps and glasses shattering against the walls, even the couch slowly revolving like a ship in a whirlpool. Magnus could hear the destruction in his bedroom and in the kitchen as well. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pinging of debris hitting the walls reached a crescendo. It sounded like gunfire. _Control. Just think about control. You can control this, Magnus. Control...shit, it's not stopping. Shit, shit, shit..._

Magnus snapped.

"_GODDAMN YOU, ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD!_"

There was a great, thunderous crash as all of Magnus's possessions froze in air and dropped the floor. Magnus dropped to the floor along with them. He placed his head in his hands and curled up next to the dictionary that had been his first victim. Slowly, reluctantly, he glanced at it.

It incinerated on the spot.

Magnus closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Where was Chairman Meow? He didn't want the cat to meet a similar fate.

The room was still. Silent. Suffocating.

And after eight hundred years of hard work, Magnus suddenly feared that he was perilously close to losing the only thing he had left to lose. The thing he had clung to. The thing he had thrown away everything else for.

His pride.


	11. X is for Xeric

_**Author's Note:** Shortish chapter after a long wait, I apologize. I've just been super busy lately, and I've had to write all these papers for school, so when I get home the last thing I want to do is write some more...you understand, don't you? Excuses, excuses. Blah, blah. Sidenote: not sure if my use of the word "xeric" is correct, but it was the only word that started with "x" that I could think of a theme for, besides "xylophone," which is so cliché that even I refuse to use it._

* * *

**X is for Xeric:** _"So, you're telling me that this isn't Phoenix, Arizona?"_

Alec knew it was going to be an interesting day when out of the blue Magnus asked, "Darling, have you ever been to Phoenix, Arizona?"

They were sitting in Alec's favorite locally owned bookstore somewhere on the outskirts of Queens. Like most of what Alec favored, it was stuffy, dusty, and moth-eaten, but it retained a quaint, antique charm that was common in most small bookstores owned by equally stuffy, dusty, moth-eaten old men. Magnus was flipping through a positively ancient magazine, trying to decipher the faded lettering on the page while Alec perused the aisles looking for something to read. He'd warned Magnus beforehand that this was going to a time-consuming feat, considering he'd already read about three-fourths of the books in the store. Magnus decided to join him anyway.

Alec was a little afraid to answer Magnus's question. "As a matter of fact, I haven't. Have you?"

"No," Magnus replied. Alec raised his eyebrows at the response, and even Magnus seemed a tad surprised. In his eight-hundred years, Magnus had traveled, it seemed sometimes, nearly everywhere in the world. Apparently, though, not Phoenix, Arizona.

"Huh," Alec remarked, going back to his languid search. "Why do you ask?"

"Because according to this, it is the most populated state capital in the United States."

"Interesting."

"Not at all," Magnus disagreed, tossing the magazine over his shoulder. Alec scowled at the warlock's disrespectful treatment of the article. Not to mention the unwarranted slander of Arizona's state capital.

"You're in a fine mood," Alec bit sarcastically. "What do you have against Phoenix, Arizona?"

"I don't have anything _against _Phoenix, Arizona. I just don't find it particularly interesting that it has the largest population of all the state capitals."

"Really? I do. I'd figured it'd be Boston or something. You don't hear too much about Phoenix, Arizona."

Magnus gave him a look. "I think you are the _only_ person on the planet who finds it interesting that Phoenix, Arizona, has the largest population out of all the state capitals."

"Evidently not. Someone wrote an article on it in a magazine."

"That person is most likely dead," Magnus retorted. "He probably died from sheer lack of character."

"I feel like you're insulting me, but I'm not entirely sure," Alec speculated.

"What I'm saying is, you have character. An extraordinary amount of character. You're absolutely bursting with character. I mean, you do the extremely dangerous job of hunting demons, you have a plethora of constant weaponry at your disposal, you wear sexy black fighting gear when you're not wearing those hideous sweaters, you're funny, you're smart, you're charming; and yet, you spend your valuable time here, in this stuffy old bookstore that you've probably remained loyal to for the past several years, debating with me about the level of interest of the population of Phoenix, Arizona."

"Wait," Alec said, "you think Shadowhunter gear is sexy?"

"Beyond the point," Magnus sighed. "Honestly, Alexander, haven't you at least noticed that we're the only two people in here?"

"I'm always the only person in here," Alec said.

"_Exactly_," said Magnus. "Instead of sitting in here _reading _about Phoenix, Arizona, wouldn't you rather _be _in Phoenix, Arizona?"

"Technically, _you _were reading about Phoenix, Arizona. I was talking about it," Alec pointed out. "And I still don't understand. It makes no difference whether I _want _to go to Phoenix, Arizona. The simple fact is that even though it has the largest population out of all the state capitals, I've never been there, and I'm not there now because I'm at this sparsely inhabited bookstore picking out something to read. Nothing I do is going to change that."

Magnus smiled devilishly. "_Au contraire, mi corazon_."

"Are you trying to distract me with your use of both French and Spanish?" Alec accused suspiciously. His eyes widened when he spotted a blue spark jump from the warlock's fingertips. "_Magnus_, what are you doing?"

"I am escorting you to Phoenix, Arizona," Magnus replied, snapping his fingers just as Alec once again opened his mouth to protest.

And suddenly, they were no longer in the stuffy, dusty, moth-eaten bookstore on the outskirts of Queens. Alec screamed as he flailed in a torrent of colors, sounds, and sensations, grasping like a child for something to hold on to, finding nothing, not even air. Finally, after several terrifying seconds of this, he was falling through the air. He landed on something hard and gritty, but it sufficed in cushioning his fall. After taking a moment to recover, he sat up on his elbows and looked around.

Dunes. There was a steady rise and flow of pale golden sand dunes for miles around, dotted with the occasional clump of prickly green cacti or skeletal brush. There was uninterrupted brilliant blue sky from horizon to horizon, marred only by the blaring white orb of the sun in the center.

The desert. Alec was in the desert.

From beside him, there was a muffled exclamation and another person popped out of the sand. It was Magnus, shaking sediment out of his hair and surveying their surroundings. His face lit up when he noticed Alec. "There you are! I was worried for a moment that we would get separated. I should have grabbed your hand before I teleported."

"Magnus," Alec hissed, slowly. "What did you _do_?"

"Oh, nothing really. I just teleported us to Phoenix, Arizona." Magnus glanced around. "You know, for it having the highest population of any capital in the United States, it sure is dismal around here. Are you sure that magazine was accurate?"

"Don't you have to make a Portal to get anywhere?" Alec asked, bewildered. "Please don't tell me you opened a Portal in that bookshop."

"Of course not, darling! Don't be ridiculous. I didn't use a Portal," Magnus dismissed.

"Then what the hell was that?!" Alec gestured wildly to the sky from which they had arrived.

"I told you: teleportation. It's not exactly approved by the Clave, but it isn't illegal either," Magnus explained before Alec could protest.

"Why isn't it approved by the Clave? There must be a reason."

"Well...let's just say that if used by an unpracticed warlock, it's not exactly safe," Magnus said. "We use teleportation for inanimate objects and occasionally animals, but human beings are another thing entirely. It takes immense concentration, control, and enormous power."

"That does not make me feel any better about our situation," Alec said dryly. Again, he looked around. "Are you sure we're in Arizona?"

At least Magnus was honest. "No, not sure at all." He stood and dusted himself off, then offered a hand to Alec. "Let's find out, shall we?"

"If this turns into a catastrophe, you are never living it down," Alec warned, accepting the assistance. Already he was starting to sweat; the black jeans, thick boots, and navy blue sweater he was wearing weren't exactly desert-trekking attire.

Magnus only beamed at him. "Oh, Alec, honey. I'm flattered you have so much faith in me that you've yet to realize any sane person would already consider this a catastrophe." He guided Alec down the sand dune before he had a chance to respond.

* * *

It was several hot, dry, water-less hours before they finally found someone. He was certainly no one from Phoenix, Arizona. He was a man in a white robe and turban, with dark skin and thick black hair. He was riding a camel. And he didn't speak English.

Luckily, Magnus was relatively fluent in whatever language the man did speak. After several lines of dialogue that Alec didn't comprehend, Magnus nodded, sent the man on his way, and turned to Alec.

"So," he said. "News. We're not in Phoenix, Arizona."

"Really? I never would have guessed," Alec remarked. "Where, exactly, are we?"

"Somewhere in the Sahara Desert."

Alec gaped. "The Sahara Desert? As in Africa? How the hell did we end up in Africa?"

"I told you, teleportation is very tricky business," Magnus shrugged. "You should be happy we found this kind gentleman. There isn't civilization for fifty kilometers."

"Well, what exactly are we supposed to do now, Magnus? You're not going to teleport us back to New York City. We might end up in the clutches of a polar bear in Alaska!"

Magnus smirked. "You know, people really don't appreciate the full extent of your imagination."

"_Magnus_. This stopped being funny two hours ago. Just tell me how we're going to get home," Alec hissed. He was sweaty, dehydrated, sunburned, and had sand in all the wrong places. He just wanted to get back to sweet urbanity and forever surround himself with the comfort of concrete.

"Very well, very well. I can do one of two things: manufacture us some fake passports, find an airport, and fly back to New York, or I can make a temporary Portal."

"Flying will take to long," Alec sighed. "So make a damn Portal."

"Alrighty then, grumpy," Magnus huffed as be began to prepare.

Alec rolled his eyes. Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, looked at the caller-ID, and inwardly groaned. "It's Jace."

"I thought electronics didn't work in foreign counties."

"Yeah, me too." Alec begrudgingly answered it. "Hello?"

"_Where the hell are you? We've got a nest of demons in the city, and we've been trying to get a hold of you for at least half an hour_ - " There was sounds of a struggle, and suddenly Isabelle's shrill voice was on the other end.

"_Alec! Where are you? You're not at Magnus's, not at that gross little coffee place you like so much, and that old guy at the bookstore said he saw you and Magnus earlier but you just disappeared! What's going on_?"

"Look, sorry for making you worry. There were some...complications, but I'm on my way back. It might take a while, so just go ahead and handle this horde without me."

"_Back from where?_"

Alec sighed. "We're not entirely sure. Somewhere in the Sahara."

"..._Desert?_"

"Yeah."

Silence. The static of an exchange, and then Jace's amused tones. "_I think you just broke Isabelle. Did I hear that right? You're in the Sahara Desert? As in - ?_"

"Africa. Yes. Look, it's a long story - "

"Not really," Magnus provided impishly.

" - and I've got to go. Handle those demons without me."

"_Sounds kinky, but okay_."

"Unfortunately it's not," Magnus muttered.

Alec glared at him darkly and hung up the phone. "Are you satisfied? You've broken my sister. She was stunned into silence. I don't think that's ever happened before. Ever."

"Then I feel very accomplished," Magnus supplied. "It's always that way when I break a new record. You know, I should be in the World Record Book for the largest rubber-band ball ever constructed, but legalities forced me to surrender my title."

"What legalities?"

"Apparently if it's hollow and you can roll around in it like a hamster it doesn't count. I'll show you pictures when we return." Magnus stopped and sighed. "Well, the Portal is complete. It's not my best work, but it will suffice. Let's go home."

When they arrived in Magnus's apartment a few minutes later and drank about three gallons of water, Alec decided he was too sunburned to help Jace and Isabelle (who stopped by to hear the whole story after receiving his text while battling the small horde of Raveners) and instead opted to look at pictures of the world's largest hollow rubber-band ball.


	12. W is for Weather

_**Author's Note:** Another weather-ish based chapter. For future reference I've never actually seen _The Notebook_, so if my information pertaining to the timing of events in the movie isn't completely accurate then please let me know. Oh yeah, and I don't own _The Notebook_, nor do I own _Mortal Instruments_._

* * *

**W is for Weather:**  
_Magnus demonstrates how exciting rain can be._

Magnus loved thunderstorms.

Most warlocks did. Storms were brewing pinnacles of natural, non-demonic magic. That feeling before a storm was more than just a shift in air pressure; it was the magic building into a collective, tangible force, sweeping across the vast blue sky like a giant ship sailing the tides of the ocean.

The raw power of a single bolt of lightning could be caught in a jar and used for magic purposes, usually as a kind of enhancer. Lightning could bring a warlock back from the cusp of death. Thunder was the proof of that power, the incredible force behind the lightning. Thunder was the sound of the creation of a fourth state of matter, of molecules literally generating enough energy to split magnetic bonds. Thunder scared demons, because they realized the significance behind this pure sound. After all, what was magic but the manipulation of energy?

Rain in itself was magical. A good dousing of rain cleansed the earth of demonic contaminants, if only for that crisp, clean moment after a shower. Magnus could feel the demon in him squirming in discomfort, and these were the times when Magnus felt his most human. He liked the feeling, even if he was weakest after a storm.

It was worth it, to see the smiling band of a rainbow. Probably the only thing Magnus loved more than glitter.

So Magnus felt the giant thundercloud as it stretched over the skies of New York City. The threat of rain hung heavy in the air, pressing against his nerves, arousing a part of him deep inside that yearned for the earthy, iron-pure power of the storm and feared it at the same time.

He felt his hair stand on end from the static of that first lightning strike. The thunder echoed through the sky a few seconds later, announcing the rain's arrival like a royal minstrel. Magnus let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the rain began to fall, lifting the tension of anticipation from the air. This storm was going to be a big one.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he heard the front door open behind him. Smiling, Magnus turned and raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. Alec stepped in, windswept and smelling of cold, but relatively dry.

"Good afternoon, biscuit," Magnus said cheerfully, flouncing over to the Shadowhunter as he removed his leather jacket. Alec managed a mumbled response before Magnus pecked him on the lips, fondly pinching his cheek. He could tell from the slightly grumpy look on Alec's face that it had not been a good day, but he did not let it influence _his _fantastic mood. Instead he resigned himself to cheering his boyfriend up. "Rough day?"

"The usual," Alec shrugged with a sigh. His nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold, and the wind had swept his hair in all different directions. He'd been growing it out ever since Magnus mentioned in passing that he liked long hair. It was endearing, Magnus thought, but if it got any longer it would subtract from Alec's bright blue eyes. Not to mention it would start to look shaggy.

At the moment, Alec kind of looked like he'd been molested by a leaf blower.

Magnus said as much, earning himself a Look. He grinned and gently brushed droplets of rain out of Alec's hair. "Well, I have something that will brighten up your day astronomically."

"Oh?" Alec replied skeptically. Usually Magnus's surprises ended in some sort of adventure, and today he just wasn't up for adventure. He wanted to take a nap, rest his sore, aching body, and turn his phone on silent so he wouldn't have to listen to Jace or Isabelle for the entire evening. He loved his siblings, he really did, but after three days of trying to catch an elusive demon that could change from vapor to flesh in the blink of an eye, he was at the end of his tolerance. Additionally, Clary and Simon had apparently decided to screw with him and simultaneously argue with their respective partners only a day before the call, so Alec was also the appointed therapist for the duration of the job. He almost preferred the horde over Jace's and Isabelle's constant complaints. Was he that bad when he fought with Magnus? He hoped not. And at least his arguments with Magnus weren't about hair products or action figures.

"Yes. The weather is perfect for two of my favorite things: cuddling and hot cocoa. I figured we could watch a movie or two while we're at it," tempted Magnus.

Alec raised his eyebrows at the deceptively tame suggestion. In reality, Magnus recognized the fact that Alec was weary and tired; he saw the exhaustion in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders. He figured that patience was a virtue, and that Alec was probably going to be a _lot _more enjoyable later if he recovered from his extensive mission.

"Okay," Alec agreed. Magnus grinned again and ordered him to sit while he retrieved the cocoa and the movie ("because it's _my _turn to choose, and I am not watching another creepy horror flick; those are only useful if the date is squeamish, which you're not, stupid Shadowhunter").

Only a few minutes later Magnus strode in with a floating tray of steaming hot cocoa, blankets, pillows, and _The Notebook_, one of his favorite movies and one he could never convince Alec to watch. Apparently all Nephilim were allergic to Nicolas Sparks. But he knew that if there was ever a day he would succeed, it would be today.

Unfortunately he walked in to find Alec splayed on the couch, fast asleep. Magnus couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed. He just smirked with an exasperated little huff, waved the movie into the DVD player, and sat down on the couch next to Alec's head. With one more wave to start the movie and remove Alec's muddy boots from the upholstery, he picked up a mug and began to enjoy the rain.

It wasn't until Ryan Gosling witnessed Rachel MacAdams kissing another man that Alec began to wake up, stifling a huge yawn with one fist and nearly punching Magnus in the face while stretching his other. "Watch where you swing that thing, love," Magnus teased, nudging Alec with his knee. "You'll take my eye out."

Alec rolled his eyes and shimmied into a more comfortable position, resting his head on Magnus's lap. He blankly stared at the screen for a time, until finally Gosling and MacAdams shared their absurdly passionate iconic kiss in the rain. "You know," he finally remarked, "I've never understood the concept of that."

"Of what?"

"Kissing in the rain. It seems unpleasant. You're more likely to get a cold than anything else, and you're all wet. What's the point?"

Abruptly, the movie paused, as did Magnus's fingers combing through Alec's hair. The sleepy Shadowhunter immediately knew he'd said something wrong, and braced himself for the oncoming lecture.

"The _point_? It's probably one of the most romantic, desperate clichés of all time! It's cinematic beauty! It's...I can't even explain it. There's just something about kissing in the rain that's magical."

Alec scrutinized him. He was in no rush to get back to the movie, but he was even less inclined to galvanize a debate. "Whatever you say."

Apparently this was another wrong response. "Alexander," Magnus snapped, "get up right now."

"Come _on_, are you serious?"

"Dead serious."

Alec grumpily sat up, knowing that any further hesitation would result in Magnus dumping his ass on the floor. He was starting to regret opening his big fat mouth to begin with. Now he was going to endure one of Magnus's "debates," which usually ended up in some kind of destructive explosion, one of them storming out of the room, or amazing impasse sex. Alec wasn't even sure he was up for the last one. He was just so _tired_.

Magnus stood up and hoisted Alec off of the couch by the collar of his shirt, dragging him toward the apartment exit. Alec blinked the door flew open of its own accord and Magnus tugged him down the flights of stairs, barefoot and coatless.

He threw Alec out into the street. It was freezing cold, the puddles on the concrete splashing up to Alec's ankles, and rain coming down in sheets of painful water. Alec gaped at Magnus, bewildered. If he wasn't wide awake before, he certainly was now.

"Magnus, what the hell?" he shouted over the roar of the wind and the rain. "Are you seriously kicking me out because I said - ?"

The warlock in question strode into the street in two long steps and cupped Alec's face in his hands. "Shut up, silly Shadowhunter," he purred. Then he pressed their mouths together, and all thought was wiped from both of their minds.

The kiss was a blur of sensations, all of which were somehow enhanced by the rain. Alec practically swooned, wrapping his arms around Magnus's shoulders in order to keep from sinking on the wet pavement. He felt Magnus smile, and the warlock's hands moved down the length of his back, pulling their bodies closer together. He was vaguely aware of the pedestrians with wide umbrellas muttering as they passed, and he thought he heard a few cars honk as they drove by, but he was beyond caring. Magnus was right. Kissing in the rain was magical.

They pulled apart, looked at each other, took in their soaking states, and burst into laughter. It was the hardest either of them had laughed in a while, much to their surprise. Magnus let out a long, mirthful sigh and gently knocked their foreheads together. "Told you so," he murmured, touching the tip of Alec's nose with his finger.

Alec wrinkled said nose. "Yeah, yeah."

Magnus chuckled again, a deep throaty sound that didn't belong out in the middle of the street. Alec saw his eyes shift to a darker, sultry green, brimming with intentions that made his knees go weak. "Why is it," he began, "that you look _so _irresistable right now?"

Alec couldn't imagine what he looked like; probably a matted half-drowned mouse, swallowed by his absorbent sweater and limp jeans that were extremely heavy and two shades too dark. His hair (why was he growing it out, again?) hung in his eyes like seaweed, curling over his neck and dripping water into his collar, a lukewarm dribble joining the freezing rain.

He surely didn't look anything like Magnus. Magnus wore the rain well, just like he wore everything well. The white t-shirt was doing him a _lot _of favors, defining his lean, feline musculature and the many piercings that Alec had come to know and love. His eyeliner must have been profoundly waterproof, because they were standing in the middle of a freaking hurricane and it wasn't even a little bit smudged. The rain dripped down his tan skin in artful streams and drops, catching on his high cheekbones, the tip of his chin, his collarbone. He looked like a model posing for a fashion magazine, not anyone Alec would ever be associated with.

Then again, what Magnus saw was completely different from what Alec imagined. He found the awkward, heavy clothes endearing. Alec's hair was striking against his pale skin, like slashes of thick blue-black paint on china. Raindrops clung to his long eyelashes, falling on the shadows cast by sleepless nights. Alec may not have been mistaken for a model, but Magnus found a peculiar kind of delicate, naïve beauty in him that was entirely unparalleled.

Magnus's arm tightened around Alec's waist and he kissed him again, slowly, ravenously, with a burning intensity that befitted the moment. He felt the ice-cold tips of Alec's fingers brush his cheek, and his toes wiggled on the chilly pavement. Goosebumps rose on his neck and arms. He felt Alec shiver.

He could feel the storm coming to an end instinctively and physically, the swell of power receding into itself with the rain. This was by no means the permanent end of the shower, only a brief reprieve. As the clouds dripped the last of the rain and sunlight streamed to the pavement in its place, Alec glanced up and smiled.

"Hey," he said, jerking his chin up. "Look at that."

Magnus followed his gaze and his eyes rested on a faint band of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet painted across the sky, gracefully dipping behind the city backdrop. His grin joined Alec's. "A rainbow," he murmured.

"I like rainbows," Alec remarked absently, his blue eyes growing soft at the sight of one in the sky. Magnus tipped back his head and laughed, startling the Shadowhunter out of his reverie. He frowned, drawing his eyebrows together. "What?"

"Well I should hope so!" Magnus wheezed. "You're dating one!"

Alec had to laugh at that, too.

* * *

Two days later Alec perched grumpily on the couch in the Institute, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a thermometer in his mouth. Jace was smirking from his vantage point across the room, unwilling to attain whatever bug Alec had contracted. Isabelle had refused to enter the room at all, claiming that she did not look good with a puffy, runny nose.

Magnus was trying not to laugh at Alec's poor condition. He'd received a text from Isabelle that explained that Alec would not be able to make their date to the fair because he had projectile vomited into her shoe closet. "He's lucky to be alive," she'd muttered when she granted him permission into the Institute. "There was Gucci in there. _Gucci_."

The object of Isabelle's frustration glared up at Magnus from under his mountain of blankets, pillows, and tissues. He'd specifically told Isabelle to tell Magnus not to come, but evidently she'd encouraged him to. Probably as a petty act of revenge for ruining her shoes.

"Poor baby," Magnus cooed, shaking his head.

"Don't laugh," Alec snapped. "I blabe you. This is your fault."

"I'm sorry? You 'blabe' him?" Jace snickered.

"Shut up, smardass!"

Jace snorted. "Is there anything you can do about this. We can't have him out of commission for too long."

"I recommend Tylenol and bedrest," Magnus said with the decisiveness of a medical practitioner.

"You can't whip up some kind of potion to make him better?"

"No," Magnus sighed. "Not even warlocks have a cure for the common cold yet."

"Fantastic," Alec muttered crossly, sinking deeper into his cocoon. "I'll get to biss all da fund."

"I'll go break the news to Izzy," Jace said. "Too bad. We were really looking forward to you puking on the Ferris wheel again."

"Shut up! It was that freaking hotdog thad made me puke and you know it!" Alec protested, but Jace had already left.

Magnus snickered. "That voice is really sexy, you know."

"Bite me," Alec sniffed. "It's your fauld I'm sick."

"I know," Magnus murmured sympathetically. "But you can't deny it wasn't worth it, can you? It's not my fault your puny human immune system couldn't take a little bit of rain."

"Go to hell," Alec snapped. Then something registered. "Hey! Wait a second, do warlocks evend get sick?"

"Not with a cold."

"Bastard! Ged oudda here!"

"Still can't deny it wasn't worth it, can you~?" Magnus sang as he skipped out of the room. He turned back at the threshold of the room and winked. "Call me when you're feeling better, love."

Alec merely submerged himself into the blankets with nothing more than faint grumbles.


	13. S is for Spiders

**Author's Note:**_ Sorry for my absence, I've been super busy. And lazy. And procrastinating. Mostly the last one._

* * *

**S is for Spiders:**  
_Alec is not amused_.

Magnus was applying glitter to his hair in preparation for a dinner date when Alec burst out of the bathroom, still dripping wet and naked from the shower he'd just finished. He screeched to a stop once he was out of the bathroom, panting heavily and clutching his chest.

"Um, Alec, dear?" Magnus inquired, genuinely concerned. "May I ask what's the matter?"

Alec struggled to calm his breathing. "Oh, uh, i-it's nothing."

"Are you sure? Because you just came sprinting from the bathroom, wet and naked, looking like you've just seen a ghost. As attractive as that is, it makes me worry a bit."

"Wha - ?" Alec glanced down at himself and blushed.

"Oh, come on, it's not like I haven't seen it all before," Magnus teased with a sly wink, causing Alec to blush even more. "Why don't you go get a towel and dry off so we can leave and come back that much sooner, hm?"

Alec glanced nervously at the bathroom, then back at Magnus. "Could you...um...make a towel appear?"

"_You're _asking me to use magic?" said Magnus, raising his eyebrows. "I thought that magic was only for practical uses, like creating Portals for the Nephilim, and healing the Nephilim, and summoning demons for the Nephilim, and - "

"Okay, I get it," Alec said dryly. "We ask for your help a lot."

"And yet, you get all huffy when I use magic for menial things like cleaning and personal hygiene," Magnus pointed out, smirking. "What, did Bloody Mary molest you in there or something?"

"We exterminated the Bloody Mary demon years ago."

"I was making a joke, darling," Magnus sighed, a towel appearing in his hand. He tossed it to Alec. "You're supposed to laugh."

"Only if it's funny."

"Oh, _now _you have a sense of humor. I see how it is." Magnus peered into the bathroom, which was still saturated with moisture from the steamy shower. He grinned when he saw the object of Alec's distress, dangling from a barely discernible strand of web attached to the ceiling.

Alec noticed the sudden evil aura emanating from the mischievous warlock as he scrubbed his hair dry with the towel. He peered at Magnus, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you doing?"

"I am so disappointed in you, Alexander," he sniffed, wheeling around to glare at his boyfriend, although this was a very difficult expression to maintain, as Alec looked absolutely _delicious _with his hair glistening and disheveled from the shower. Magnus tried not to let his eyes wander, or wonder if Alec's skin would taste like soap, but did not succeed on either account.

"...Why?" Alec sounded like he knew he would regret asking.

"I always figured that if you were going to cheat on me, it would at least be with someone better looking," Magnus sighed mournfully. "Or at least someone of the same species as you."

"_Magnus _- "

"But no," the warlock plowed on, although Alec's tone clearly said that he was treading in dangerous territory. "You had to go and take a shower with a spider. A _spider_. And in my own bathroom, too. For shame."

"I'm glad you get some sick, twisted entertainment from this," Alec snapped as he pulled on a pair of pants, much to Magnus's dismay.

"I'm not entertained at all, Alec, dear. This is no laughing matter."

"Sure seems like you are."

"I'm not laughing. I'm very betrayed."

"Can we go to dinner now?"

"Well, I don't think they serve people without shoes or shirts, darling. And besides, do you think we should really continue to see each other after this horrendous scandal?"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Alec huffed irritably.

"Come now, I should be the cross one here - "

"By the Angel, Magnus, I'm scared of spiders! Okay?!" Alec turned to his boyfriend, scowling and blushing at the same time. "Can we just move on, now?"

Magnus gasped. "Well. This changes everything."

"Does it?"

"Indeed. I can't very well go to dinner with you after discovering that you're an arachnophobe. It is my responsibility as your boyfriend to make sure that you mount your fears! Every last one!"

Alec gave him a look. "The word is _surmount_, first of all. And I am not going to surmount that spider. Or mount it, for that matter."

"But it'll be good for you," Magnus pouted. "Trust me."

"No." Alec pulled on a shirt. "Now, come on. I'm hungry."

Magnus stuck out his chin stubbornly. "I am not leaving this spot until you kill that spider."

"Okay." Alec shrugged and finished tying his boots. "I'll go to dinner without you."

"Harsh. Very well, I'll have to up the stakes," Magnus said. "If you don't kill that spider, I will conjure an even bigger one and torment you with it until you get over your arachnophobia."

Alec sighed tiredly. "Magnus, please. I fight demons for a living. I know that it's ridiculous, but I am genuinely afraid of spiders."

"It's not ridiculous," Magnus said. "There are young ladies all around the globe who suffer from the same condition."

"Ugh, you just don't understand!" Alec cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're just like Jace and Izzy. They said the same thing when they found out. See, this is why I can't tell anyone these things. I get that it's a stupid thing to be afraid of, but I _am _afraid of them. Isn't there something that you're terrified of, Magnus?! Oh, no, wait, I forgot that you're just as fearless as the rest of my family!"

Magnus blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected such a reaction. Although, he supposed that in a family of all-powerful, supreme Shadowhunters, Alec probably got a lot of hazing for his arachnophobia. Next to his siblings and parents, he probably felt that his fear made him weak.

"I'm sorry, Alec," Magnus murmured, his features softening. "You're right. Everyone is afraid of something, and I shouldn't have teased you because your fear is different from mine."

"Whatever," Alec snorted gracelessly. "Your greatest fear is probably something infuriatingly noble, like losing all your loved ones or something."

"You're wrong on that account," Magnus said. "I'm afraid of losing my loved _one_."

Alec blushed.

"That's a fear that will never fade away," Magnus shrugged. "Unless I kill you. But I won't do that. It's illegal in most countries. However, it _isn't _illegal to kill a spider...just saying."

"...Even after all that, you're not going to let this go until I kill that damn spider, are you?"

Magnus conjured up a magazine and held it out for him. "I do this because I love you."

Grumbling, Alec snatched the magazine and rolled it up. He hesitated at the threshold of the bathroom, eyeing the dangling spider with apprehension. "Do I really have to do this?" he inquired, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"Just remember the wise words of Franklin Roosevelt: 'There is nothing to fear but fear itself.'" Magnus paused, considering something. "And hey, maybe it's a radioactive spider and you'll get all sorts of cool powers if it bites you. You'll be the Amazing Spider-Shadowhunter. ASS for short."

"Not helping."

Magnus fell silent as Alec edged toward the spider. It spun precariously on its little strand of web, its spindly eight legs twitching in a way that made his skin crawl. When he was about an arm's-length away, he raised the magazine, closed his eyes, and brought it down like an executioner.

Tentatively he opened one eye. The spider was no longer suspended from the ceiling. He blinked and began looking for the carcass. "Where'd it go?"

"Um, Alec." Magnus's eyes were wide. He pointed to the magazine.

Slowly Alec turned his gaze to the magazine. The spider had grasped onto it sometime during the assault.

And it was now scampering across Alec's hand.

Alec dropped the magazine and let out a bloodcurtling screech, waving his hand spastically and dancing all around in an attempt to get the spider off. This went on for about three minutes before he ran out of breath and stopped, daring to glance at his hand. The spider was gone.

Magnus just stared at him in the threshold of the bathroom, his jaw on the floor and his eyes the size of saucers.

Alec glared at him, huffing and puffing. "Don't...you dare...laugh."

"I'm not...it's just...Alec, the spider..."

"Oh, let me guess," Alec panted sarcastically, straightening up. "It's on my head now, right?"

Mutely, Magnus nodded.

"Seriously, Magnus? That's not funny - " Alec froze when he felt a tickling sensation in his hair. His gaze roamed to the mirror, where he could see a tiny black _thing _skittering onto his forehead. "Holy shit! Get it off me, get it off!" He shook his head back and forth like a dog and pulled out chunks of his hair in a blind attempt to remove the spider for the second time. He tripped over the edge of the bathtub and fell back into the hard white plastic, taking the shower curtains with him. He continued to twitch and spasm until Magnus rushed to his side, helping him out of the tub.

"Alec! Calm down, it's okay. The spider's gone."

"Where?! Where is it?!"

"It's gone. I made it disappear."

Alec froze and stared at him. "You couldn't've done that to _begin _with?!"

"Well, I just thought that I'd help you get over your fear," Magnus said, his eyes still wide. Except now they were filled with amusement. He covered his mouth, hiding his smile. "I didn't realize how severe your arachnophobia was."

"Don't fucking _laugh _at me!" Alec screeched, red in the face. "That did _nothing _to help me get over my fear! If anything, you've just mentally scarred me for life!"

"Come, now, I think you're being a bit melodramatic."

"Oh, you're one to talk about melodrama. You were the Drama Queen's _mentor_." Alec shuddered violently, the memory of his advisary fresh in his mind. "Come on, I just want to go eat something. And have a strong drink."

"I apologize for putting you through that traumatic event," Magnus cooed, wrapping his arms around Alec's waist. "And even though you failed to kill the spider, I'll still always think of you as my special ASS."

"I'll show you an ass."

"You'll thank me for this one day."

"Let go."

"Not feeling the gratitude..."

"Bastard."


	14. L is for Lingerie

**Author's Note:**_ I feel like these keep getting shorter and shorter..._

* * *

**L is for Lingerie:**  
_Magnus owns some, Alec wishes he didn't._

Alec laid in Magnus's bed in his pajamas, idly playing tetris on his phone while he waited for Magnus to finish doing whatever he was doing in the bathroom. Chairman Meow was curled up at his feet, purring like an engine as he scratched the cat behind the ears with his toes.

He didn't look up when Magnus finally opened the door in a grand sweeping gesture. He didn't think anything of it; Magnus always arrived with grand sweeping gestures. Besides, he was kicking tetris ass.

Only when Magnus cleared his throat (and Alec's cellphone simultaneously died) did he look up.

His entire face went scarlet.

Magnus was dressed in some kind of leather monstrosity; only, it showed more skin than it covered. Leather concealed Mini-Magnus the Great, and from there leather straps wound down the warlock's thighs to his knees. Leather suspenders supported the ensemble, making sure it didn't completely fall down Magnus's narrow hips. He had a whip in one hand.

Alec blinked, gaped, and made a sound that only dolphins could hear.

"You like?" Magnus struck a pose, winking at Alec. "I thought I'd spice things up a bit. What do you think?"

"Wh...where...where the hell did you get that?!"

"I know a guy," Magnus said, frowning. "But when I asked you what you thought, I meant about how it looks on me, dear, not where to get one. Although, if you want one..."

"No! No I don't _want _one!" Alec shrieked, his voice becoming steadily louder. Chairman Meow looked up once he stopped being pampered by Alec's feet, saw Magnus, and jumped off of the bed.

"This was not the reaction I was expecting," Magnus sighed. "I figured that leather would be a good place to start, since you're so used to wearing it, and since you're already familiar with whips..."

"My _sister _is familiar with whips," Alec said. He tore his eyes away from Magnus so he could focus on speaking clearly. It didn't really help his scrambled brain.

"Oh dear," said Magnus. "That poses a problem then. I should have thought about that. Maybe I should have gone with the lace instead..."

"Wait," Alec demanded, holding up a hand. "You're saying that you have _more_?"

"Well, yes," Magnus said, as though this should've been obvious. He perked up considerably. "Would you like to see?"

"No! I don't want - I'm not - I don't like - "

"You don't like lingerie?" Magnus pouted. "How can you know? You've never tried it."

"It's one of those things that I just automatically know."

"You can't automatically _know _something, love. Come on, just try it! There's no harm done, even if you don't like it. Not that I've met someone who never has."

"There is harm done," Alec sniffed. "Harm to my sense of decency."

"Oh, don't be a prude," Magnus said. "It's not like I'm asking _you _to wear anything. Just enjoy me. You know you did. Otherwise your face wouldn't have turned so red."

Again, Alec blushed. "My face turned red because I was embarrassed."

"Of what? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"I'm not doing anything that involves...that, okay?"

"Just say it, Alec. It will make you feel better about it. Lingerie."

"No, I'm not going to - "

"Just once. Say it."

"No, I don't - "

"Lingerie."

"Stop - "

"Lingerie. Come on, it's easy. Slides right off the tongue. Lingerie."

"Magnus, I swear by the Angel - "

"Lingerie. Lingerie. Linger - "

"Will you stop saying lingerie?!" Alec blurted out, hopping out of bed to reach his full height. He pressed his lips together when he realized his mistake, and sat back down with his arms crossed over his chest. "Don't look at me with that gloating smirk," he snapped as Magnus chuckled. "I'm not saying it again, and you can't make me."

"What's your problem with lingerie? Your sister owns some, doesn't she?"

"I don't go through my sister's underwear, you sicko!" Alec exclaimed. "And even if she did own some, which I hope she doesn't, how does it make this situation any less weird?"

"No need for name-calling, dear," Magnus chastised. "This isn't weird. All I wanted to do was break the monotony, that's all. But if you'd rather just go back to the way we used to do things, I suppose I can go change into some jeans. If this is too _exotic _for you..."

"That isn't going to work on me," Alec huffed. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to make me feel insecure about my sexual performance in order to get me to try something new. That's how you got me to do...well, a lot of what we do."

"And everything we've tried you've enjoyed, haven't you?" Magnus pointed out.

"Not _everything_," Alec said. "The role-playing wasn't enjoyable in the slightest. This is the same principle. I don't like pretending that I'm doing it with someone I'm not."

"This is completely different," Magnus argued. "I admit the role-playing was a bad idea. But this time I'm still me; just a sexier me."

"Magnus, you don't need leather and whips to be sexy," Alec said. "You're already sexy enough for the both of us. If you get any sexier I'm not going to be able to beat off the competition."

The warlock beamed. "You know there's no competition."

"Still. This is just...too much."

"Fine," Magnus sighed. He snapped his fingers, and the lingerie became a pair of jeans. "Does this suit you better?"

Alec grinned, a glint in his eye. "Now that's _perfect_."

"Hm. It seems that plain low-rise jeans do the trick," Magnus observed, looking down at himself. "I wonder if they make denim lingerie..."

"Come over here before I have to hit you and ruin the moment."

"Coming!"


	15. T is for Tie-dye

_**Author's Note:** So I've gotten some questions in the reviews that I should probably answer. Usually if someone has a question I'll reply back to them directly, but the people asking questions don't have an FF account, so I must answer them here. _

_**1) Am I writing a chapter for every letter of the alphabet?** Why yes, yes I am. It is indeed an alphabetical story. We're more than half-way done, by the way. This story is now officially middle-aged! Yay! :D_

_**2) What is this thing called 'Malec' of which you speak?** Well, Malec is the semi-official term that we fanpersons have dubbed the relationship over which we gush. It is a conjunction of Magnus and Alec's names. Magnus/Alec. MaLec. Malec. I suppose one could also say Algnus, but it just doesn't have the same ring to it._

_I hope that those who asked these questions find this helpful, and that they don't mind that I reworded them a bit for my own enjoyment. :D Onward with the story!_

* * *

**T is for Tie-dye:**  
_Another scheme to incorporate color into Alec's wardrobe_.

"You know," Magnus sighed, "you never cease to amaze me, Alexander. Since the sixties I've maintained that it's impossible to mess up tie-dying. You've proven me wrong."

Alec held up the proof Magnus was referring to. It was originally a simple white t-shirt, but now it was reduced to a wrinkled mess of some strange toxic green color. It reminded Alec of the exotic mold Isabelle's cooking seemed to attract.

Magnus's attempt was perfection, of course, the gentle ripples of blue and green and red washing over each other in harmonious circles on the white cotton.

"I have a theory," Alec said, tossing the shirt in Magnus's face. "Color doesn't like me."

"No, color can smell fear on you. You repel it."

"I am not _afraid _of color."

"Your odor says otherwise."

"I am not odious."

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Well, odious or not, there is a problem with your theory."

"Color doesn't think? Or smell, for that matter."

"Not that," Magnus waved dismissively. "The _other _problem. Look at your hands. They're stained with dye, which means that color is actually quite attracted to you. Just not your clothes."

Alec held his hands up to his face. They were the same mottled green as his shirt, and his feet, and his knees. Tie-dying was a messy business. "I don't think this should be considered a color. This is color playing a sick joke on me and laughing its ass off. Speaking of which, how the _hell _did you manage to escape without any dye on you at all?"

Magnus wiggled is spotless fingers. "Practice, my dear. I've been at this a long time."

"I look like I stuck my hand in demon crap," Alec said mournfully. "Wait until Izzy gets a load of this. Or Jace. Or my _mother_."

"It's not that bad, love," Magnus soothed. "It should only last a few days."

"You conveniently omitted that little detail when you convinced me to go along with this."

"I think the better question is why you know what a demon-crap-covered hand looks like."

"Magnus, this isn't funny."

"You're right," the warlock agreed. "This is a serious matter. So serious, in fact, that you should stay here until all the dye washes off."

"As appealing as that sounds, I think I'll pass," Alec said wryly. "I have a feeling that the dye will mysteriously become permanent."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Magnus said, clutching his chest dramatically. "You and I both know that we can't live together if we want this relationship to work. We'd go crazy."

"True."

Magnus lifted the shirt again, wrinkling his nose. "This was a waste of a perfectly good white t-shirt. And it was designer, too."

"Wha - who _tie-dyes_ a designer t-shirt?!"

"You and me, obviously." He pursed his lips, prospecting. "Maybe I can salvage it. Or we could just try again. Ready for round two?"

"No. I'm ready to go home." Alec held out his hands. "Clean me up."

"How on Earth do you propose I do that?"

"You're a warlock, so make with the magic. We're going to dinner with Jace, Izzy, Clary, and Simon later."

Magnus's face lit up. "You didn't tell me that! It will be like a triple date!"

"Which is exactly why I didn't tell you," Alec muttered.

"Oh, we should wear matching - "

"No."

"You didn't even know what I was going to say!"

"You were going to suggest we wear matching tie-dye shirts."

"So you think so too?!"

"No. And we aren't going at all unless you zap me clean."

Magnus surrendered with a snap of his fingers and a burst of blue sparks. "Hardass," he pouted as the dye on Alec's skin faded away. Alec wagged his fingers, pleased with himself for finally winning a debate with Magnus. Usually he was the one out-witted into compliance. Alec was pretty skilled at bickering, having grown up with Isabelle and Jace, but he was no match for Magnus, who had eight-hundred years of banter under his belt.

"I'm going to get a shower," he said. "We'll leave after that, okay?"

"Okay," Magnus huffed.

They didn't leave after that. Because when Alec got out of the shower and reached for his clothes, he discovered that they looked like a rainbow threw up on them. A very tasteful, stylish, glittery rainbow.

"MAGNUS!"

The warlock poked his head into the bathroom, wearing an expression that deserved a halo above it. "You called, darling?"

"My clothes. Are tie-dyed."

Magnus rested his eyes on the pile and gasped in exaggerated surprise. "It would seem so. I wonder who did that. Chairman Meow, was it you?"

"I know damn well it was you!" Alec hissed. "Change them back or we aren't going on a triple date!"

"But I already called Isabelle! Everyone is expecting us. And if we don't show up, I gave her explicit instructions to come here."

"You didn't."

"You think I'm bluffing?" Magnus lifted his cell phone and showed Alec the history. He had dispatched a call to one _Izzy ;)_ about two minutes ago.

"You are diabolical. But there is a flaw in your plan."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I am not wearing that. I would rather everyone come here and see me naked."

"Come on! Just wear one thing that's tie-dye. Please?"

Alec sighed and inspected the clothing, grimacing at the sheer humiliation of wearing anything so bright and cheerful. He was a Shadowhunter, dammit! It was his job to hunt demons, not make balloon animals for children at the carnival.

Alec also mourned the lost of his short-lived victory. Magnus always won. It wasn't fair.

The warlock glanced at the clock as Alec speculated just running down the street with the towel around his waist. He wondered how far he'd get before Magnus would make the towel disappear.

"If we don't show up in ten minutes, they're coming here," Magnus warned. "It takes five minutes to get to the restaurant."

Alec sighed and surrendered, chosing a tie-dyed piece of clothing. He grumbled as he put it on and Magnus un-tie-dyed is other clothes, but he couldn't bring himself to be truly angry. All his mutinous outrage faded when the warlock shot him an impish grin before he left to retrieve his shoes.

Fuck. Why did his boyfriend have to be so sexy?

* * *

Isabelle looked a bit disappointed when Alec and Magnus showed up with exactly a minute to spare. Apparently she'd really been looking forward to seeing what sort of disarray had ensued upon Magnus's scheme.

"I'm glad you made it," Simon rejoiced as they slid into the booth. "No offense, dude, but I've got no desire to see you in your birthday suit."

"I find it fairly creepy that Izzy takes so much enjoyment in the idea," Jace said.

"Why must you make everything dirty, Jace?"

"It's because he has a filthy soul," Clary theorized.

"At least I have a soul."

"Shut up! Gingers have souls, too!"

"Wait," Simon interrupted. "I thought gingers _stole _souls?"

"They do," said Jace. "That's how she knows mine is filthy."

"All of you, be quiet!" Izzy demanded. She turned back to Alec and Magnus, focusing mainly on the latter. "I thought you said he'd be wearing tie-dye?"

"He is," Magnus said. They all blinked expectantly at Alec, who mutely stood up, lifting his shirt so the others could see the elastic band of his boxers, which were dyed several colors. The group erupted into laughter, all except Jace, who groaned in dismay as he handed Isabelle a twenty dollar bill.

Alec sat back down, cheeks flaming. "You're buying me dinner," he told Magnus.

"Oh, I'll buy you a drink," Magnus promised as Alec realized, too late, that Isabelle had somehow managed to snap a picture of his colorful boxers and was currently texting it to everyone they knew. "I think you're going to need it."


	16. B is for Bruises

**Author's Note:**_ Exciting news, guys! _**JaceRose**_ has graciously offered to translate _Tied Tongues _into Italian! How awesome is that? She's already got the first two chapters up, so if you want to read or look at _Tied Tongues: Italian Edition_, you can find it at _**efpfanfic. net ?sid=1575639&i=1**_ (with no spaces, of course)._

**W****arning**_: ahead lies semi-smutty material and foul language that some viewers may find offensive. If you don't like it, pretend it's not there. :) _

* * *

**B is for Bruises:  
**_Alec gets more from being a boyfriend than a Shadowhunter._

Alec had always considered bruises a bad thing.

And in his line of work, who could really blame him? He'd sustained some of the worst bruises in human history just in training. Izzy and Jace both knew how to throw a punch, and that was nothing compared to a smack by a demon tentacle. Those things tended to produce deep-tissue bruises that swelled an angry black-purple for weeks, and hurt long after they faded away. Not to mention that they were about the most unattractive thing in the world, according to Isabelle. Alec and Jace were always careful not to leave lasting marks on her in practice, for fear of her incurring wrath.

So, no, Alec had never particularly _liked_ bruises.

You know, until recently.

His brief time with the High Warlock of Brooklyn had changed his mind, if only a little bit. They'd been dating on the spry for a few weeks, if someone can even tall it dating; they really just hung out in Magnus's sloppy apartment and made out. Alec didn't let it progress any further, and the warlock was surprisingly patient. He didn't even bat an eye when Alec felt the old familiar panic swell up in him and bolted without warning. It happened often, but not as often as it used to.

Still, Alec had trouble wrapping his brain around the fact that he was really, actually dating someone. Someone who he was genuinely attracted to. A _guy_. And, no matter how many times Magnus assured him that they weren't doing anything wrong, there were times when he couldn't escape the feeling that they were. He couldn't help it. He'd been disciplined into thinking it was wrong. That _he_ was wrong.

It was worse knowing that when he was with Magnus, nothing had felt more right.

This was only one of the things Magnus was changing Alec's mind about. Bruises were another example. They'd debated it for quite some time (debate was another common pastime in the confines of Magnus's apartment; it was something akin to verbal foreplay) and reached an impasse since Alec refused to let Magnus chain him up and show him exactly how pleasurable bruises could be.

"Maybe the act of _receiving_ the bruises feels nice," Alec argued back, his face a horrible shade of red, "but the actual bruises aren't."

"Oh, there's nothing _nice_ about the receiving," said Magnus devilishly.

This only resulted in more blushing, then a kiss, and thus an impasse was reached.

Today they were wrapped up in each other on Magnus's couch, Chairman Meow playing with the catnip-filled mouse Alec brought over as a truce. The small feline was wary of him at first, since he smelled of another cat, but enough bribes had earned him reluctant acceptance. Now Alec just kept it up because the one time he didn't bring something to occupy the Chairman, the feline amused himself by attacking their feet, and Alec felt wrong about having an animal in bed with him and Magnus while they were engaged in sexual activity.

Their current situation was the result of another playful spat about bruises, as Alec had recently sustained a nasty one on his knee. It wasn't from anything extraordinary—he'd tripped over a coffee table in the bleary hours of the morning, and just happened to be an easy bruiser. Still, demon-inflicted or not, it hurt like hell.

Alec had spent a lot of time with Magnus the past few days. He told himself that it had nothing to do with the fact that Jace was sort of missing.

Magnus shifted his body and did something really interesting with his tongue, instantly obliterating every thought from Alec's mind. He pulled the warlock closer, hooking one of his legs around one leather-wrapped calf. Magnus's mouth expertly left the kiss and trailed down Alec's jaw. He nuzzled the Marked skin and did something utterly euphoric to his neck, causing an intense wave of hot pleasure to wash across him. Alec felt his body arch up of its own accord, just as his eyes rolled back in his head and a moan escaped his throat without his permission. Part of him hated that Magnus had this kind of influence over him, but another part was wildly attracted to the feeling of letting reason leave him, of letting his more primal instincts take control. He loved it even more when Magnus was the one crying out, but that tended to happen less often than he'd like.

Another shocking wave took him. He rolled over and pinned Magnus to the back of the couch, bringing the warlock's mouth back to his own. Magnus purred, yanking the Shadowhunter closer to him. Chairman Meow leapt up onto the half of the couch that wasn't preoccupied, and Magnus unceremoniously hooked one leg over Alec's hips and kicked him off. That movement in itself brought an onslaught of fascinating reactions, but before Alec could act on them the cellphone in his back pocket buzzed.

"Just ignore it," Alec murmured when Magnus hesitated. It stopped after a few seconds, and whoever was calling didn't leave a voicemail, so it must not have been that important. They resumed what they were doing.

A few minutes later, it buzzed again. "Maybe I should…um…" Alec began, but his attention wandered as Magnus's teeth caught his earlobe. "I should…ah…"

That call also went ignored, and this time the caller left a voicemail. And a text.

Ten minutes later the phone buzzed for a third time. Magnus sighed and resigned himself to resting his head on Alec's shoulder while the Shadowhunter angrily reached into his back pocket and answered it.

"What?" he growled ungenerously.

Isabelle's frantic voice came through the phone. "_Alec? Are you okay? You sound like you've just run a marathon_."

"I'm fine," Alec assured, suddenly paying special attention to his panting. "What do you want? I'm…I'm working out at the gym. I'm busy."

"_Since when do you go to a gym to work out?_" Izzy said. "_Anyway, didn't you get my calls?_"

"The music's lou-AH! Uh, l-loud in here." Alec tilted the phone away from his mouth so his sister wouldn't hear his shuddering breath. He tried to pull away from Magnus, who was once again working feverishly on his neck, but his damn traitorous body only offered him more leverage.

"_Um…okay. Are you sure you're alright, Alec?_"

"Fine, I'm abs-OH!-lutly fine. Absolutely fine." He tried to wriggle away, but wriggling was only detrimental to his noble cause.

"_Well, I was just calling to let you know that Jace is back_," Isabelle continued, her voice tinted with suspicion. "_Figured you might want to, you know, show up and join us for a nice family reunion. Unless working out is too important. Because it's not like you can do that here._"

"Oh, _God_," Alec blurted. His voice reached a strange decibel he'd never heard himself produce before.

"_Wha—don't take that tone with me, you ungrateful prick!_" Isabelle sounded unnerving like their mother for a moment. Minus the name-calling. "_I'm only trying to do _you_ a favor!_"

Alec couldn't speak to defend himself.

"_What's your sudden infatuation with working out, anyway? Who are you trying to impress? Is there something you're not—_" Isabelle suddenly stopped mid-rant. Alec could almost see her blue eyes grow wide with the epiphany. "_Oh_. Oh."

Funny. That's exactly what he was just thinking.

"_Are you with a guy right now? Is it that warlock? Hello? Alec?_"

"Isabelle," Alec growled once his tongue started working again. "I can't talk to you right now. I'll be there soon."

"_Oh, don't rush on _my_ account_—"

Alec hung up before she could finish, tossing the phone across the room and rolling on top of Magnus before the warlock could move. "You're going to pay for that," he said.

Magnus didn't seem particularly concerned.

* * *

Sooner than either of them would have liked, Alec left. He had to.

Now he kind of wished he hadn't.

He sat curled up on the bathroom floor, trying to stop the intense heat rising up to his face. He was almost afraid to check the mirror, because he knew what would be there. He knew he would see what Jace had glimpsed.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and looked at his reflection. As he suspected, his cheeks were an absurd shade of red. The color drained from them when he turned his head and saw the darkening purple spot on his neck.

By the Angel. He had a hickey.

Magnus gave him a _hickey_.

Alec was mortified. It was bad enough that Jace noticed it; what if his _mother_ saw it? Or what if someone actually identified it for what it was—a big label that said, "Hey, I hooked up with someone! You don't know who he or she is, but this right here is proof that it happened and gives you permission to ask questions that will make me extremely uncomfortable!"

"Shit," Alec cursed. He only had one person to go to. Someone who was undeniably an expert at covering up bruises of any shape and size. The only person who probably had an inkling about what the situation was.

Hand slapped over his neck, Alec walked across the hall and knocked on Isabelle's door.

She opened it, took him in, and grinned. "Hello there, slut."

"You can call me anything you want," Alec said, although he glowered as he did. He removed his hand, revealing the hickey. "Just fix this."

"I knew it!" Izzy shrieked, jumping up and down like an exited kid. "You _are_ seeing that warlock clandestinely!"

"Not out here!" Alec hissed. He pushed her inside her room and closed the door. "Not where someone else can hear you. And seriously, 'clandestinely'?"

"What? It sounds much more romantic than, 'behind the backs of everyone you know and love, even your kid sister who already knows your sexual orientation and has supported you through thick and thin.'"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Alec sighed. "It just kind of…happened. I didn't have time to even think about telling anyone."

"Whatever, just come over here, man-whore." Isabelle sat him down on her powder-pink bed and rummaged around until she found a stele. "Alright, let's do this."

As she neared with the stele, Alec found himself covering the hickey again. "Wait."

"What?"

"I…can't you just use makeup or something?"

Isabelle gave him a look. "Why would you want to use makeup instead of a healing rune? It's a much bigger pain, and not nearly as effective. Healing runes are one of the few benefits of being a sleazy Shadowhunter, you know."

Alec didn't particularly care about finding out how his little sister knew the benefits of being a sleazy anything. And as much as he saw the logic in her words, he just couldn't bring himself to erase the bruise entirely. Now that the initial shock was gone, he was starting to feel some affection for the mark of possession.

"Just show me how to use the makeup," he muttered to his socks.

Isabelle blinked at him, and then lowered the stele with a tender smile. She knew her brother well enough to read the expressions as they crossed his face. "Okay, you little vixen you," she teased, trading the tool for her makeup kit. "But make sure you give this all back when you're healed up."

"Are you going to keep calling me derivative names until this goes away?"

"Oh, no way. It's going to continue well after that, skank."

Alec wasn't sure what he was more irritated at: the fact that Isabelle was probably never going to let this go, or that Magnus had finally won their debate.


	17. O is for One

**Author's Note:**_ So I originally planned to publish this on or around Valentine's Day, but it just didn't happen. Sorry guys. It's only...eleven days late, right? And it's long...ish. __I'm busy. And lazy. So sue me._

_Wait. I take that back. Don't. And just to be sure, I'll go ahead and say I don't own any products or movies mentioned in the following chapter, nor do I own Mortal Instruments._

* * *

**O is for One:**  
_The number of years Alec and Magnus have been together._

Alec frowned skeptically at the mysterious trail of fragrant red rose petals that appeared at his feet as soon as he stepped inside the apartment. His eyes ran the length of the path until it disappeared into the kitchen. "Magnus," he called, "what is this?"

He sighed when he didn't receive an answer (he wasn't expecting one) and resigned himself to complying with Magnus's wordless request, stopping to brace himself at the entrance of the kitchen. When he felt adequately prepared, he stepped around the corner.

Magnus was waiting for him next to a circular table that wasn't there yesterday. It was dressed in a spotless white tablecloth. From what he could see in the flickering candlelight, the table was set for two. A pair of crystal goblets, silver plates, forks and knives expertly wrapped up in napkins nested in enough rose petals to make Alec's eyes water.

"Hello, love," Magnus greeted. He was also dressed up for the occasion in black suit and glittering silver tie. He smiled at Alec, a smile as seductive as his voice, and it sent a small shiver up the Shadowhunter's spine. "What do you think?"

"I'm…confused," Alec said lamely.

Magnus looked unappeased. "What do you mean?"

"What's all this for?"

Now Magnus just looked downright hurt. "What do you mean, what's all this for? Are you telling me you don't know what day it is?"

"It can't be Valentine's Day," Alec thought aloud. "That's not until March."

"First of all, Valentine's Day is in _February_," Magnus scorned. His hurt was building into disgust. "Secondly, it is of little consequence to what's happening here. No, this is not for Valentine's Day, but it's equally as important."

"Labor Day?"

"Good grief, Alexander, it's our _anniversary_! We've officially been dating for a year now! How can you not remember that?!"

"Um, question," Alec said. "Is it dating as in everyone knows? Or does this include our secret dating too?"

"The fact that you can't even figure _that_ out is absolutely horrifying," Magnus growled, growing red in the face. The candles flared up dangerously, the flames glowing faintly blue.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't see the big deal with anniversaries," Alec admitted. "They don't make any sense to me."

"Anniversaries are profoundly significant. We've been dating for a year! Doesn't that make you feel…I don't know…accomplished? Successful? Happy in the least bit?"

"A year isn't that long," Alec said, shrugging.

"A year is an eternity," Magnus disagreed. "Do you know how many relationships make it that long? Especially considering the kind of obstacles we've faced?"

"I didn't think it'd be that important to you, since you're immortal and all."

"Being immortal only helps me appreciate time, darling," said Magnus softly, some of the abhorrence leaving his tone.

"But you don't even remember your birthday," Alec pointed out.

"Not _my_ time," Magnus corrected. "The time of others is what becomes important. My time _with you_ is what's important. The Nephilim put such an emphasis on birthdays because their lives are, in general, very brief. Living another year is an accomplishment. Anniversaries are as such with me."

"Oh," Alec said, his stomach sinking. His looming mortality was a constant shadow over his relationship with Magnus. Neither of them liked bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Otherwise I would've made more of an effort to remember."

"I know, biscuit," Magnus murmured, brushing Alec's cheek with his thumb. "I apologize as well, for snapping at you. It's easy to forget that your values are very different from mine. But, that doesn't mean we can't still celebrate!" With a snap of his fingers, the candles died down to their normal flickering glow, and a silver platter appeared in the center of the round table. Alec shook his head but obliged as Magnus pulled out a chair for him. It was the least he could do.

Magnus sat down and lifted the cover of the silver platter, revealing…an empty plate. "Is this supposed to be symbolic or something?" Alec asked.

"No, this is just me offering whatever you would like to eat. Name anything."

"You're not going to 'borrow' it from some fancy restaurant, are you? Because stolen food isn't exactly romantic."

"Since when did you become an expert on romantic cuisine?" Magnus scoffed. "But if it appeases Her Highness, I will pay for whatever I commandeer."

"You're such a liar," Alec accused.

"There's nothing wrong with a little white lie if it makes someone feel better. Ignorance is bliss, my dear. But I give you my word that I'll pay for whatever you order, so long as it's not from Tiki's."

"Why not? I like Tiki's."

"Tiki's is such a substantial part of your diet that consuming it on a special occasion is sacrilege," said Magnus. "It's the equivalent of ordering pizza at a wedding venue and expelling the resulting gas to entertain the crowd at the reception."

"That's not so bad," Alec mused. "Demons attacked my parents during their wedding. That's not really an unusual occurrence though, so they had Nephilim on standby."

Magnus gave him a look. "That's just sad. I actually pity your poor mother right now."

"If you're going to pity anyone, it should be my father. During the fight his best man lost the rings, which were in his family for seven generations. He had to cut them out of a demon, but the stomach acid had already ruined them."

"Order some damned food, Alexander, before I lose my appetite."

Alec grinned and considered his options. "How about…ratatouille?"

"Ratatouille?" Magnus repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. You know, the French cuisine?"

"I know what it is, Alec, just like every small child and every culinary-gifted rodent on the planet. I'm questioning why on Earth you would choose ratatouille when you have your pick of dishes. Why not caviar, if you want something French? Escargot? French fries?"

"First of all, French fries are Belgian, not French," Alec said. "Secondly, caviar and escargot are disgusting. There's nothing remotely romantic about them, other than the fact that you can brag about how rich you think you are if you've eaten either one."

"Ratatouille is more romantic than fish eggs or mollusks?"

"Yeah. My grandmother used to make it for me all the time…you know, before," Alec explained, eyes growing distant. "I can still vaguely remember it sometimes. Mom made it too, when she was home. Hodge tried, but he's about as much of a cook as Isabelle. Anyway, one time he tried to make it and he lost the recipe. No one can remember how to make it. I can't even remember the last time I had it." He blinked himself out of his reverie, focusing his blue gaze on Magnus. "So I request ratatouille, please, good old-fashioned French style."

"Oh, God," Magnus said. "It all makes sense now. You're Anton Ego."

"Huh?"

"You know, the food critic from that Disney-Pixar movie about the rat who wants to be a chef, _Ratatouille_. Anton Ego. The stuffy, pale food critic who wears nothing but moth-eaten black sweaters. He's all judgmental and anal-retentive until he takes a bite of Remy's ratatouille, and then he's brought back to his childhood and he becomes an entirely new person with healthy complexion."

"I am not stuffy. Or pale."

"Beside the point," Magnus dismissed. He peered across the table at his boyfriend, inspecting him closely. "I can't believe I didn't see it before."

Alec scowled. "Are you going to feed me, or continue to compare me to a Disney antagonist?"

"Actually, he's not really the antagonist. But—well, ratatouille, coming up," Magnus said, snapping his fingers. A steaming heap of delicately sliced vegetables smothered in delectable sauce graced the silver, automatically making Alec's mouth water in appreciation. His stomach rumbled. He didn't realize how hungry he was. Magnus watched as he slid the plate toward himself impatiently poking at the dish with his fork while he waited for it to cool off. "You know," the warlock continued as he poured wine into Alec's glass, and then his own, "ratatouille is an appropriate choice. I can't believe you've never told me that story before. And here I was considering fugu."

Alec frowned. "You were going to feed me pufferfish potentially contaminated with a deadly neurotoxin?"

"I've heard it's quite exciting."

"And you think I have skewed ideas of romance."

Magnus smiled as he watched Alec take a bite of the ratatouille and his eyes grew wide with appreciation. He took a bite of his own, and was surprised to find that the dish was quite tasty. He'd never tried it before. They ate in silence for a few more minutes, occasionally sipping wine. Chairman Meow prowled into the kitchen and regarded them with contempt at their complete inconsideration for his needs. Magnus rolled his eyes and fish appeared in the cat's bowl, causing him to mew happily and nibble.

"I hope that's not fugu," Alec said.

"We'll find out soon enough," Magnus remarked. They watched the feline for signs of mental deterioration, but after finishing the seafood he licked his paws contently and seemed relatively normal.

"Do you always experiment on your pets?"

"You shouldn't complain. Experimentation is the foundation for a healthy sex life."

"I'm not your pet, Magnus. At least I hope that's what you're implying, because otherwise I think we might have to break up."

"Afraid I'll leave you for the Chairman?"

"And now I'm not hungry anymore." Alec pushed his plate away; not that it mattered, it was clean. Magnus chuckled and cleared the dishes with a wave of his hand.

"So," he said, "what's next on our romantic agenda?"

"I thought you planned this all out," said Alec.

"Please, Alec, dear. You should've known that food was as far as it got. By my calculations, we should be knocking the dishes off the table in a clothes-tearing frenzy. As this is obviously not the case, I'm leaving it up to you to pick up the slack."

Alec shrugged. "I'm okay with a clothes-tearing frenzy. I'd prefer the bedroom, though. Much more comfortable that way."

"Clothes-tearing frenzies aren't supposed to be comfortable," Magnus said, grinning. He lithely leapt onto the table, knocking the silver out of his way. Alec nearly tipped back on the last two legs of his chair, he was so startled, but Magnus grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close before he could fall, bending so they were at eye level. Alec figured spontaneity was the goal here, so he grabbed Magnus's shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, almost pulling him off the table in the process (it was also a little bit of revenge for surprising him).

They waged a mostly silent war, trying to get the other to fall off their respective furniture. Magnus quickly realized that trying to force Alec off the chair was futile, so he changed tactics, instead attempting to overwhelm the poor Shadowhunter into submission. Alec turned to jelly, making an involuntary noise as the warlock expertly parted his lips. His manicured nails trailed down the back of his neck, causing him to shudder. Alec gripped the table, feeling the wood splinter under his fingernails. He was determined not to let Magnus win that easily. He reversed his own game plan, kissing back with more fervor and using his superior physical prowess to leverage Magnus off of the table. Magnus grinned against his mouth, breathing heavily.

"Clever, love," he purred, wrapping his long legs around Alec's chair. In one deft motion he used his ankles to pull the chair closer to the table, making it impossible for Alec to get any real advantage. "But not clever enough."

Alec noticed the lack of a sound coming from the legs of the chair, and blinked, looking down. He gasped. The table and chair were levitating in the air, about two feet off the kitchen tile. He glanced back up at the warlock responsible, gaping. He noticed that Magnus's cat-slit eyes were almost completely dilated, only a thin rim of gold-green iris embracing the black. It vaguely reminded Alec of a solar eclipse.

Magnus chuckled and brushed his hand across Alec's cheek, planting a kiss on the vulnerable _O_ of Alec's mouth. Then he mercilessly gripped Alec's shirt and rolled backward onto the table, pulling the Shadowhunter on top of him. Alec yelped, but was unable to recover since Magnus chose that moment to lower the table back onto the ground. The warlock grinned, all sharp canines, touching the tip of his fingers to Alec's nose. "I win."

"Cheater," Alec accused, pouting. "What was that, anyway?"

Magnus chuckled in a way that promised all sorts of enticingly dark acts, undulating in distracting ways under Alec. He brought his lips to Alec's ear, whisper a gentle caress. "What? Haven't you ever seen a warlock do magic before?"


	18. N is for Notes

**Author's Note:** _Sorry for the long wait! Really guys, it's midterm week. I'm lucky to have even found the time to write this at all, even though it was supposed to be published over a week ago. This chapter is a little different than the other ones...well, you'll see. Hope you like it!_

* * *

**N is for Notes:**  
_They have a collection._

_123-4567 _

_That's my number. Call me sometime. –MB_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_This week has been really fun, but I don't know if I'm ready for this kind of relationship yet. I haven't told anyone except my sister about my condition, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for them to find out. I'm sorry._

_-Alec_

* * *

_Darling little Nephilim,_

_Who has to know?_

_Sincerely yours, Magnus_

_(P.S. Would you please stop calling it a 'condition'? You're gay, not sick.)_

* * *

_Magnus, had to go before my parents woke up and found out I didn't come home last night. Call you later. –A_

* * *

_To: Alex  
From: Magnus_

_I'm so terribly sorry that you had to witness that. Here's a lovely flower arrangement to sooth your soul._

* * *

_Magnus,_

_Don't worry about it. I only walked right out because I didn't want to disturb you. I'm very impressed with your capacity to levitate animals from the petting zoo while naked…among other things. Also, in the future, you might want to ensure that the florist spells my name right._

_Sincerely, Alex (apparently)_

* * *

_My dear Alec,_

_I don't think this is going to work out. We can't continue on like this any longer. Just don't take it personally, please. It has nothing to do with you, and all to do with me. Don't come over on Friday night again. Ever._

_Love, Magnus_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_You're an idiot. I wasn't planning on going to another one of your stupid crocheting classes anyway, since I could see it bothered you that I'm better at it than you are. I don't know why you want to learn how to crochet in the first place. It's a hobby for grandmothers._

_-Alec_

* * *

_Alec,_

_I don't want to you to come because the instructor flirts with you incessantly, not because you're better at crocheting than me. But thank you for rubbing that in. And I'm learning how to do it so I can make matching scarves for us for Christmas. I thought you might appreciate it more if I had made them without magic. Apparently I was mistaken._

_-Magnus_

* * *

_Oh. Um, sorry. That was a jackass move. I'll make it up to you later. –Alec_

* * *

_Alec,_

_Had some emergency warlock business to attend to. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll be back before lunch, so many we can go get something. Please feed Chairman Meow. Don't miss me too much. -MB_

* * *

_Magnus, had to take CM to the vet. Swallowed something from under your bed and turned purple. Meet me there if I'm not back. -A _

* * *

_Dear Alec,_

_I love you. I know I've told you this before, but I wanted you to have it in writing so you'll never forget, no matter how far away you are or how long you're gone. No matter what happens to us, I love you and I'll always love you._

_Love, Magnus_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_I love you too._

_-Alec_

* * *

_My dear Alec,_

_Marry me? It's legal in New York now._

_Sincerely, your future groom_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_How many times do I have to tell you that we aren't getting married? Regardless if it's legal in New York or not, my parents **will not** allow it. The Shadowhunter society **will not** allow it. I'm sorry, Magnus, it's not going to happen, no matter how many times or how many ways you ask. Proposal by letter, by the way, is not romantic or impressive. And no, that's not a challenge._

_Sincerely, **not** your future bride_

* * *

_Dear bride,_

_Challenge accepted._

_Sincerely, groom_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_Proposal by blimp, smoke signals, yo-yo, cupcakes, interpretive dancing, Isabelle, rose petals, barbershop quartet, Morse code, glitter, graffiti (which I had to clean up, by the way), infomercial, newspaper article (even if they put it in the obituary section by mistake), and invisible ink are all invalid and rejected methods. Not to mention annoying. You lost, get over it, I'm not marrying you. The answer is no._

_-Alec_

_(P.S. I repeat: NO.)_

* * *

_Dear Alec,_

_If you'd like, I can be the bride. That way you won't have to wear a dress at the wedding. I will. Also, I think Chairman Meow and Church should be the ring bearers. Wouldn't that just be adorable?_

_Sincerely, your bride_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_Stop planning out a wedding that's never going to happen. It doesn't matter who the bride or the groom is, and neither of us is wearing a wedding dress. Now, next time you send me a letter with the words 'wedding,' 'marriage,' 'bride,' 'groom,' or 'ring' written in it, I'm going to reply by cutting something unpleasant off of a demon and Fed-Exing it to you._

_Sincerely, not your groom or bride_

_(P.S. Including the cats in the wedding is a great idea until one of them swallows a ring.)_

* * *

_Alec,_

_So you admit, there's a wedding!_

_Love, Magnus_

_(P.S. That threat was a little uncalled for, don't you think?)_

* * *

_Alec—_

_Point taken. I'll stop._

_Sincerely, a very disgusted Magnus_

* * *

_Dear Magnus,_

_Sorry I had to leave in such short notice, but we got an urgent call from the Conclave in Giza so I didn't get a chance to tell you I was leaving. Phones don't work here; we have absolutely no reception. But don't worry, I'm fine. I'll be back in about two weeks. There's this giant horde of mummy-demons going around eating people. Ew, right?_

_I miss you a lot already. I think we should visit Giza together one day. The pyramids are even more remarkable in person, and I'd love to see them with you. In fact, I think we should travel Europe and Asia too. We'll have a big adventure, without demons or crazed psychopaths or anything. A good adventure. What do you think?_

_Love, Alec_

* * *

_My darling Alec,_

_I'm really very concerned that you preface, 'I miss you a lot' with 'There's this giant horde of mummy-demons going around eating people'. I appreciate the sentiment, but please do not make me worry any more than I already have._

_I miss you too. Do hurry back. Clary sends her regards to you and Jace and Isabelle. She and Simon have been hanging out at the apartment often lately, because they can't seem to get letters to Jace or Isabelle, and they somehow found out I'm writing to you. Now they won't go away._

_I repeat, do hurry back._

_I think that traveling the world together is a wonderful idea! We should do that as soon as you get back and are all healed up. I'll be looking forward to you – oops, I mean it. _

_Love, Magnus_

_(P.S. I love you)_

* * *

_Magnus,_

_If Clary and Simon are bothering you, just threaten to turn them into rats. Don't actually turn them into rats, though. Jace would kill me. And then Isabelle would resurrect me and kill me again. I really don't want to be dead twice._

_Attached are letters to them from Isabelle and Jace. Tell them they won't be receiving any more. We shouldn't be long now – the horde is pretty much exterminated. I apologize for making you worry. I'll be home soon, and then we can go on our adventure. What do you think about Paris? I've wanted to go to Paris with you for a long time._

_Sincerely, Alec_

_(P.S. I'm not doing that 'P.S. I love you' crap. But I love you too.)_

* * *

_Dear Alec,_

_Sometimes I wonder if you still have feelings for Jace, like you wonder if I still have feelings for Camille. Do you? I don't. I hope that you understand this, but I suppose I can't expect you to understand if I don't offer you the same courtesy. But I just can't, Alec, don't you see? Inside I burn with jealousy that you are always so close to him. I know that I cannot compete with years of companionship in battle. _

_I don't know why I'm even writing this. I'm never going to send it to you. I'm going to burn it after it's writ—_

* * *

_Dear Magnus,_

_If you're reading this, you've found the envelope tucked in the box of all the letters and notes and other mementos I've kept from our relationship. This means that Isabelle or Jace or Clary gave the box to you, which means I'm dead._

_I want to start off by saying I'm sorry I couldn't find a way to gain immortality. I looked and looked, but I guess that if you're reading this I never succeeded. I wanted us to be together forever. I wanted to stay young with you. I couldn't imagine living a life without you._

_But I don't want you to feel that way. You'll probably get over me eventually and be with someone else, and that's okay. I want that for you. I want you to be happy any way you can, even if that means that you have to forget about me when I'm gone. I can handle that, just as long as you're happy._

_Please, if Isabelle's there, please take care of her. That's my only request. I don't know the circumstances of my death, but I don't know how she'll handle the fact that me and Max are both gone. So please just make sure she has support. You don't have to be that support if it's too much for you. Just please make sure she won't do anything drastic. I trust you to make sure she's taken care of. _

_I love you, Magnus. When I wrote that down for the very first time, I meant it just as much as I do now. I don't care what happened in the final moments of my life, or after I wrote this letter; if you're reading this, then I love you, and I never stopped loving you, and I won't ever stop loving you. If you ever start to doubt that because I'm not there to tell you, just read this again. Don't ever let yourself stop believing it._

_I love you._

_-Alexander Gideon Lightwood_


	19. R is for Relatives

_**Author's Note:** Look! A fast update! Yay! And don't worry, this one isn't depressing. I'm not entirely sure how you guys felt about the last sad chapter. I couldn't tell if responses like, "Thanks for ripping my heart out and stomping on it!" are good because I reached out to you emotionally, or bad because it depressed you. But I still do appreciate all the feedback, regardless._

* * *

**R is for Relatives:  
** _Sometimes Magnus likes to visit his._

Alec got the text message at two-thirty in the morning.

Grumbling, he sat up, blindly fumbled for his cell phone, and flipped it open to read the message._ Apartment in 20 min_, he read after blinking away the blinding light. It was, of course, from Magnus. No one else would even consider summoning him to their apartment so atrociously early in the morning.

For a second he debated simply ignoring the text. Magnus was probably sitting in his living room, horny and drunk after what he called "relatively controlled social interaction" and that Alec referred to as "wild-ass monkey parties". It wouldn't be the first time.

Still, the text didn't have the random babbling and horrid grammar that usually accompanied Magnus's drunken messages. It was short, direct, and concise. In fact, it didn't seem like it was alcohol-induced at all, other than the ridiculous hour.

_What if he's in some sort of trouble?_ Alec wondered. Logically he knew that Magnus was probably more capable of handling any sort of debacle than most Shadowhunters, and that even if he was in a crisis he certainly wouldn't ask for help via text message. Nevertheless, the simple thought was followed by unbidden images of Magnus locked in an enchanted iron box suspended over the Hudson River, desperately typing out texts in the hopes of rescue.

Alec sighed and rolled out of bed, feeling around in the dark for his jeans. Now there was no way he was going to get any sleep. He slipped on the pants and pulled a sweater over his head before grabbing a stele and some seraph blades and sneaking out.

Twenty minutes later, he strode up to the apartment complex. He spotted a tall man under the brightness of a street lamp and tightened the grip on his seraph blades. Further inspection revealed that it was only Magnus dressed as inconspicuously as he could manage – khaki shorts, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket. His hair was washed of glitter or gel, but still managed to look artfully tousled. His cat eyes flashed when he spotted Alec.

"There you are. I was worried you didn't get my message," he greeted.

"Oh, I got it all right," Alec said. "And I swear by the Angel, if this is a booty call I'm going to kill you right here on the street."

Magnus cracked a smile. "There's nothing wrong with a little spontaneity, is there?"

"Not between the hours of five and midnight, there isn't."

"I'll keep that in mind," Magnus purred. "But, alas, I didn't call you here for that. I asked you to come because I realized that since I met your family, it's only fair that I introduce you to mine as well."

Alec blinked. "You have family?"

He blanched when he realized how entirely insensitive that sounded, but Magnus only chuckled. "Well, yes. I didn't just drop out of the cosmos, despite what you Nephilim might think. In fact, I have many generations of family consisting of hundred of members, warlock and demon and human alike. However, I'm only interested in introducing you to the ones that are still alive. The human ones, mind you. I can't have you pruning my family tree for me."

"Um…okay," Alec said lamely. "So, why are we meeting your family at two in the morning?"

"It's not two in the morning where they are, silly," said Magnus. "My family doesn't live in Brooklyn. In fact, they don't even live in the United States."

"We're not teleporting again, are we? Because last time we ended up in Africa when we were trying to get to Arizona, and I shudder to think where we might end up if we actually tried to travel out of the country."

"No, I've made a Portal," Magnus assured, amused.

"Okay." There was a little more enthusiasm in Alec's voice this time. "So, where are we headed to?"

Magnus smirked, and offered a hand to guide Alec to the Portal set up in the next alley. "How do you feel about breakfast in Indonesia?"

* * *

When Alec stepped through the Portal, he was assaulted by an onslaught of muggy heat and bright sunlight. Immediately he started sweating under his black sweater. Now he understood why Magnus was dressed in shorts.

"Where are we?" Alec inquired, looking around. They seemed to be in a grubby alley next to a Dumpster. The stench was overwhelming in the humidity and heat, but then Alec was used to horrific stink. Ichor and demon guts didn't exactly smell like roses.

"Jakarta," Magnus said. "My many-many-great-grand something or another lives here. I suppose she's a distant cousin. Anyway, she's my favorite relative to visit. She lives in this apartment complex. Come on, she should be on her way to work by now."

"Work? Where does she work?" Alec asked, jogging to catch up with Magnus as he strode out of the alley and on to the busy street. It was just as busy as New York, if not more so. Alec felt himself getting very claustrophobic, and resisted the temptation to reach out for Magnus's jacket.

"A clothing store."

"So, she lives in an apartment in the middle of what I can only presume to be a huge city, and she works at a clothing store," Alec listed off. "No wonder she's your favorite."

Magnus rolled his eyes as he pushed open the door to the building, holding it open for Alec. He stepped in and relished the cool air of the whirring fans. Magnus walked passed him and ushered for him to follow. They walked up several flights of stairs, until finally they reached the fifth floor and stepped into a long corridor with navy blue carpet and walls of a slightly lighter shade. Magnus pointed to a peeling white door. "This is where she lives."

They stood outside the door for a moment, silent. Alec didn't want to rush Magnus in to anything, but he was kind of curious now. It wasn't like Magnus to be hesitant about much of anything. "Well, are we going to knock?"

"Don't be silly," Magnus said. "You don't honestly think she has any idea who I am, do you?"

"Um," Alec said lamely.

"She can't know. I told her that I'm the grandson of her batty next-door neighbor. She thinks my name is Faisyal, and that I occasionally visit my grandmother."

Alec frowned. "Doesn't she ask about you? To the old woman, I mean."

"Probably not. They hate each other," Magnus said. "And if they did, I made sure to take precautions. Faisyal is the name of the old woman's cat."

"Of course it is," Alec said, shaking his head. Suddenly the doorknob in front of them began to wiggle, and Magnus shoved Alec down the hallway, in front of the next door. A girl stepped out of the apartment they were just standing in front of. She was very pretty, wearing a bright red tank-top and white shorts that set off her rich golden skin, with her shining blue-black hair pulled up into a ponytail. She locked the door behind her and turned before she noticed the two of them. Then she smiled, revealing teeth that were a little crooked but endearing for it.

"Faisyal!" she exclaimed, followed by something in what Alec could only assume was Indonesian. Magnus replied in kind, finally gesturing to Alec.

"This is Adinda," Magnus told him. "She lives next door to my grandmother."

"Is nice to meet you, Alec," Adinda said with a thick accent. "You like Jakarta?"

"Yes, very much," Alec replied. He wasn't sure what Magnus had told Adinda, so he was unsure of what else to say. "It's nice to meet you, too."

She smiled. "Sorry to go quick, but got to work. _Selamat_ _tinggal_, Alec. Faisyal, _ia adalah baik untuk melihat anda sekali lagi.__ Selamat tinggal._"

"_Selamat tinggal,_" Magnus replied, lifting a hand limply as he watched her stride down the corridor. He sighed and turned to Alec. "Well, there you have it."

"She seems lovely," Alec said. "What did she say to you?"

"That it was nice to see me again," said Magnus. "That's usually how our conversations go. I've taken her out to dinner once, but it was…I don't know. Wrong. She was obviously into me, but I just couldn't get the thought of her as family out of my head, even if we are only distantly related. So now from time to time I check up on her, just to see how she's doing."

Alec smiled and squeezed Magnus's hand, bringing him back to the apartment corridor in Jakarta, Indonesia, and away from wherever his thoughts were taking him. "That's sweet, you know. I never would have guessed you'd do something like that."

"…I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended," Magnus said, raising an eyebrow.

"What I mean is that…well, family never seemed particularly important to you," Alec explained. "It just never occurred to me that you'd have relatives. Descendants."

"I try not to get too close to them," Magnus admitted. "I just like to see how they're doing, that's all. It's kind of…surreal, in a way. To watch your DNA go through life the way it's supposed to be. Live, grow, die."

"There's no way that anyone's 'supposed' to go through life," Alec objected. "You just live differently, that's all. Besides, for all you know there's some thousand-year-old being watching you just like you're watching Adinda."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "You're right, of course, love. There's some wrinkled old man hobbling around on his cane, stalking me from the shadows."

Alec rolled his eyes and let go of his hand. "This conversation is now officially over. Bring me home."

"You don't want breakfast?"

"No, I want to lay down and go to sleep."

"Only if you lay down with me."

"I did follow that up with 'and go to sleep' right?"

"I'll let you sleep. Until five."

"Please. You won't be up at five."

They walked back down the alley and through the Portal. It took a moment for Alec to orient himself after walking into the chill and darkness of the New York night. Magnus closed the Portal with a content little sound, running a hand through his hair.

"…Alec," he said slowly. "Will you do me a favor and not mention this to anyone? Not Isabelle, not Jace, not anyone?"

"Why?"

"Just…as a favor. Please?"

Alec nodded tentatively. Magnus smiled a small, unusual smile and leaned down to kiss Alec's forehead. "I love you," he murmured.

"Love you, too," Alec muttered, unable to suppress the self-consciousness that subdued his affection for Magnus in public. There weren't people on the street, but Alec still couldn't help his coy nature.

It didn't help that Magnus was acting strange, and not his usual brand of strange. However, Alec felt that he understood, somewhat. Adinda was obviously someone Magnus held secretly dear to his heart, and perhaps wished to be closer to, but by principle he had to separate himself from her. She couldn't know about warlocks or vampires or faeries, and warlocks or vampires or faeries couldn't know about her. Both situations would probably put her in danger.

Adinda was a secret. A precious one. And Magnus had just shared it with him.

What kind of trust did that take? What kind of love? Alec realized that this was the first time Magnus had shared a vulnerability with Alec – for that's what Adinda was. A vulnerability. With the exception of their own relationship, Alec had never known Magnus to have a weakness. He'd always seemed pretty much invincible under all the flamboyance. Magnus had always been the one who swooped in to save _his_ ass, and considering that Alec was the one who made of living of killing demons, it wasn't a light sentiment.

"Magnus," he said as they climbed the stairs to the apartment. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For introducing me to your family."

"You're welcome," Magnus said. He sighed thoughtfully. "It seems so unfair that when I met your family, I was threatened and intimidated in a variety of ways. You only had to get up early and travel halfway across the world."

"Want me to make it up to you?" Alec said slyly.

Magnus sniffed indignantly. "Well, it's only right that I should be reimbursed for my troubles."

"Great. I'll let you make me breakfast while I sleep for another two hours."

"That is just dirty, Alexander," Magnus huffed.

"Don't complain," Alec yawned, kicking off his boots in the doorway. He shuffled across to the bedroom, relieving himself of his sweater along the way, which Chairman Meow swiftly pounced on. "You know you like it."

"You can't just start stripping on your way to the bedroom and expect me to wait another two hours for sex!" Magnus cried. "It's cruel and unusual!"

Alec responded by closing the bedroom door, leaving Magnus to pout in the living room. The warlock waited, but his pout became even bigger when he realized that Alec was being completely serious.

"Okay," he relented. "If I promise to play nice, can we at least cuddle? Alec?"

The door opened just a crack, and Magnus grinned from ear to ear as he bounded across the room and in to Alec's arms.

* * *

_**Side note:** Everything pertaining to Indonesia I Googled, so please correct me if I got anything wrong (i.e, language, clothing style, living conditions, ect.)_


	20. I is for Insane

_**Author's Note:** More delay and another short chapter with mostly dialogue. and philosophical ranting. I fail. But, on the bright side...chapter! Update! Yay!_

* * *

**I is for Insane:  
**_"You couldn't have told me you were once admitted into an asylum BEFORE we started dating?"_

Every couple has their own personal secrets. Every couple. There are no exceptions. Even if the couple claims they don't keep secrets from each other, they do. The other person just doesn't know it. Why? Because you don't know about secrets. That's why they're secrets in the first place.

It's not bad to keep some things to yourself. The world would explode if everyone in just went around being honest all the time. We, as human beings, are programmed to assimilate even if it's just enough to get one person to accept you. So if that means telling a little white lie, or even just keeping your mouth shut, you do it. You want someone to like you. If you just blurted out everything that came to your mind, or revealed every dirty deed you'd ever done, no one would.

Although, if you've been admitted into an insane asylum, that's something you might want to mention to your significant other. This is a secret not so easily concealed. The aftermath of your significant other discovering this secret on his or her own and, worse, realizing that you never divulged this information to him or her, outweighs the benefits of deception.

This is helpful advice that the unfortunate Alec Lightwood failed to receive in time.

"Alec, you're crazy," Magnus accused without preamble.

Alec, who had just walked into the apartment, blinked at him in befuddlement. "What?"

"You are crazy. Verifiably. I have the paperwork to prove it." Magnus slapped a file on the coffee table – which Alec didn't remember from the last time he visited – and gave his boyfriend a stern look. Alec picked up the file and flipped it open, scanning the worlds.

"Magnus," he began, "this is my medical file. How on earth did you get this? I don't even go to a mundane doctor."

"Not important," Magnus said. "What's important is the part where you were admitted into the insane asylum for _three whole days_. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It wasn't important. It was just a misunderstanding. It's not like they diagnosed me with anything," Alec said, still skimming through his file.

"Of course it's important! Everyone knows that you have to tell someone if you've been in the nuthouse or the jailhouse before committing yourself to them romantically," Magnus chastised. "For all I know, you could be a violent killer!"

"Technically, I am a violent killer," Alec pointed out. "Demon slaying isn't exactly work for a pacifist. In fact, it's what got me into the psych ward in the first place."

"Pray tell."

"Well, that tends to happen when you crawl out of an alley covered in unidentifiable blood and claim you were attacked by feral guinea pigs."

Magnus gave him a blank look. "You lost me."

"It's a long story. Can we just drop it?" Alec sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But, in my defense, you haven't told me every juicy detail of your life either." Suddenly a metaphorical light bulb went off in Alec's head. "Wait a second…Magnus, have _you_ ever been committed into a psych ward before?"

"That is beside the point," Magnus huffed.

"Oh my God," said Alec with a grin. "I can't believe you! You're jealous that I've been sent to the funny farm and you haven't!"

"I am not jealous! I'm just hurt that you couldn't bother to tell me you were admitted into an _insane asylum_ before we started dating," Magnus sniffed.

"Okay, first of all, I know you're trying to be all politically correct by using 'insane asylum' instead of any derogatory term, but 'psych ward' is actually the PC way. And secondly, you can't hold it against me. I'm sure you've done plenty in your life that's probably just as if not more important than going to a psych ward for three days, and you haven't told me about it. I mean, come _on_, Magnus, I barely know anything about your past." Alec smirked. "Besides, there's no reason for you to be jealous. It's really nothing spectacular."

"Fine, alright, it bothers me that you've experienced something in your eighteen years that I failed to qualify for," the warlock begrudgingly admitted.

"_Failed to qualify for_?" Alec gaped. "It's not a club, Magnus! It's medical treatment!"

"Still. It's exclusive. You know how I love to be included in the exclusive," Magnus pouted.

"You know, I find it hard to believe that you've never intentionally done something so crazy that you could get in."

"I've tried. It doesn't work."

Alec raised an eyebrow. "Really. _You've_ never been able to do anything crazy enough to get locked up."

"Stop rubbing it in," Magnus said.

"You're insane."

"Evidently not as much as you are. Tell me what you did! Please?"

"Fine," Alec sighed. "I was fighting some demons in an alley with Jace and Isabelle, but I got lost. When I came out I as all covered in blood some old couple saw me and called 911. When the cops got there I panicked and…and told them that I was near a pet store and savage guinea pigs attacked me."

"…Really?"

"True story."

"Savage guinea pigs? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, I was eleven!"

"I would have chosen something more…I don't know. Exotic. Like turtles, or baby sharks or something."

Alec gave him a look. "You see, this is why you can't get in. You try too hard."

"What do you mean?!" Magnus exclaimed.

"Your scenarios are so ludicrous you can only be making them up," Alec said. "Turtles are too slow to inflict the same wounds as a demon, and sharks are in tanks. Besides, baby sharks usually don't have sharp teeth yet."

"Oh, and I suppose guinea pigs are terrifying predators with a thirst for human flesh?"

"At the very least it's plausible," Alec argued. "If you mess with wild guinea pigs they're liable to chew your fingers off. Who's to say an eleven-year-old boy couldn't hallucinate himself into believing it?"

"Who's trying too hard now?" Magnus muttered.

"I'm just saying," Alec said. "Who knows? Maybe I'm actually crazier than you are."

"Perhaps. You are near the top of my crazy list."

"You have a list of crazy people?"

"That I know personally, yes. You're number nine."

Alec frowned. "Who's number one?"

As if on cue, Chairman Meow scurried through the living room, did a flying leap at the window, and retreated back into his territory behind the couch when he was rebuffed by the blinds. He crouched in the darkness, his green luminous eyes the only thing distinguishable in the crevasse. Magnus raised his eyebrows at Alec, who just shook his head.

"…Nevermind."


	21. Z is for Zs

_**Author's Note:** Look, guys! Timeliness! Amazing, right?_

* * *

**Z is for Zs:  
**_Alec fails to catch them._

The sleep deprivation started on Monday.

Early in the morning, Isabelle knocked on Alec's door and informed him that there was a demon in a park abducting small children. The police had found the body of a four-year-old girl that morning, wrapped in some kind of pink, fluffy cocoon. He hopped out of bed and put on his gear, then spent the entire day hunting down what Jace dubbed, "the elusive Cotton Candy Demon."

It was certainly elusive – even with the help of Isabelle's ruby pendant, they didn't find it until well into the night. And a park wasn't a good place to be at night. It was prime real estate for the darkest of magical creatures: a spot of wilderness in the middle of one of the largest urban sprawls in the world, where they could be close to a vast and diverse food source but still remain in their comfort zone. The faeries in the area usually managed the worst of it for territorial reasons, but they were only willing to do so much.

They found the Cotton Candy Demon up in a tree. It was something distantly related to a butterfly and a paper shredder, and a formidable foe. By the time Jace finally decapitated it, all three of them were sliced and diced from head to toe. Not to mention that they had to cut down another two bodies from the tree – fortunately they were only small dogs, not children.

When they returned to the Institute covered in ichor and blood, it was already two o'clock in the morning. They dressed their wounds, wrote healing runes on each others' skin, and doped up on pain killers, but were in too much pain to get a wink of sleep.

Alec and Jace had promised to help Luke out with some renovations for his bookstore – which was literally falling apart – on Tuesday, so he downed a few of those energy drinks that Magnus loved so much and joined the werewolves in some hearty construction. They were rewarded with pizza and beer – "Don't tell Jocelyn or Maryse I let you drink," Luke warned – and somehow ended up in a lycanthrope bar with Maia and some of her buddies, most of whom were burly men with more hair on their chests than Alec and Jace had on their entire bodies combined. Of course, drunk Jace had an even _bigger_ mouth than sober Jace, and the bar erupted into a Nephilim-hate fest which resulted in an unconscious Jace with a bruised jaw. Maia smoothed things over long enough to rescue Alec, who hoisted his idiot _parabatai_ over his shoulder and surreptitiously disappeared. Later, Maia would suggest that neither of them step foot in the bar ever again.

Maryse's lecture lasted until the next morning. She yelled at them in her pale blue bathrobe until her voice was hoarse and her two disgraced sons had pounding headaches. Then she dismissed them. Wednesday was spent recovering from a killer hangover. Eventually Alec just laid numbly in the bathtub, wishing his body would stop producing sour vomit. Izzy was helpful, at least. She made him a pot of coffee after she snapped a picture on her phone.

Despite Robert's efforts to mollify her, Maryse was still too peeved for Alec to stay at the Institute on Thursday. He escaped in the early hours of the morning after glimpsing her expression at the breakfast table and wandered around the city, stopping at nearly every coffee shop along the way to grab a cup. He dropped by Magnus's apartment only to discover that the warlock had gone to an important "business meeting" – which Alec knew really meant "fashion show" – in Milan and wouldn't be back until Friday. Too jittery from the coffee to sleep, Alec used a laser-pointer to play with Chairman Meow until he got a call from Isabelle, who frantically informed him that the Cotton Candy Demon had a nest of little Cotton Candy demons that were terrorizing Central Park in their mother's absence. He geared up and ran to help, fighting giant larvae covered in blades until dawn.

Once again, he was in too much pain to sleep on Friday. Jace and Isabelle had dragged him from the park after the last dozen babies flew away. They were much too exhausted and injured to chase them down. Alec had a particularly severe slash on his right calf and could barely walk. The caffeine buzz had long since died off, and he was entering a sort of sleep-deprived daze. He laid in agony on a cot in the infirmary of the Institute and apparently – although he didn't remember this – had requested that an IV be filled with Red Bull and injected into his arm. Once he was healed enough to walk, he shuffled into the kitchen and downed exactly two and a half pots of coffee while his family watched in morbid fascination.

Around eleven o'clock at night, just when he was considering going to bed, Alec realized he hadn't seen Magnus all week and was suddenly very aware of that fact when he received a provocative text message that Magnus helpfully sent to inform him he had returned from Milan. Alec's libido was the only thing that kept his body moving as he stumbled to his boyfriend's apartment and was immediately yanked inside by a pair of manicured hands.

Three cans of Monster, two endurance runes, and twelve hours of wildly depraved sex later, Magnus watched Alec pour himself a bowl of Captain Crunch in his kitchen.

He was very, very concerned.

The Shadowhunter wore only his boxers – which almost _never_ happened – as he stared down at an empty green bowl on the counter. Slowly he grabbed a box of sugary cereal from the cupboard and poured it into the bowl, blinked, and grabbed the fresh pot of coffee, pouring it on the cereal until it threatened to overflow.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "You aren't really going to _eat_ that, are you?"

He got an impressive zombie grunt in response as Alec dimly looked for the spoons. He pulled a ladle from the drawer and dipped it into the bowl, which capsized and made a puddle of coffee on the counter. Magnus hopped off the counter and grabbed the ladle from Alec's hands. "Alright, that's enough. The bags around your eyes could hold my groceries, and you've got dark circles that would put a raccoon to shame! I've seen cadavers with more awareness than you. Not to mention the fact that you look like you played Twister with a porcupine."

"…Ughnarg?" said Alec.

"When was the last time you got any sleep?" Magnus sighed, taking that to mean 'Your point?' in zombie-speak.

"Hmn…Sunday, m'be? Can't 'member."

Magnus balked. "You're telling me you haven't slept in an entire _week_?"

"Wha's today?"

"It's Saturday."

"Yeah, guess I h-h-haven't," a gigantic yawn contorted the last word. Magnus shook his head and took Alec by the hand, leading him back into the bedroom. "Where're we going?" Alec mumbled, almost tripping over a discarded shoe.

"_You_ are going to sleep," Magnus said.

"But…m'cereal…"

"Leave it. It'll probably poison you." Magnus sat Alec down on the bed and pointed at a pillow. "Lay down, Alexander. Now. I'm not kidding. Do you know that if you don't sleep for a certain amount of time, you could die? Do you understand what this kind of schedule will do to your health? It's no wonder the Nephilim have such short lifespans – you all literally work yourselves to death!"

Just as he finished, Alec's phone buzzed. He fumbled for it and flipped it open. " 'Lo?"

"_Alec, we just located the last of the Cotton Candy babies_ – " Isabelle began, but Alec lost the rest of the sentence as Magnus pried the cell phone from his grip.

"Isabelle, this is Magnus. Alec won't be on Shadowhunter duty for the rest of today, and maybe tomorrow, do you understand?"

"_Magnus, I know you haven't seen Alec all week, but we don't have time for him to fool around with you all day! This is really important –_ "

"Do you know what he just tried to do? He made a bowl of Captain Crunch with _coffee_."

"_So?_"

"Instead of milk."

"…_Ew_."

"Yeah. Alexander informs me that he hasn't gotten any sleep since last Sunday, so I am taking it upon myself to do everyone a favor and keep him here until he's rested up. Otherwise he's going to burn himself out. Don't call again, because we aren't going to pick up."

"_What?! That can't be right_ – "

"When was the last time you saw him sleeping?"

Isabelle was silent. Then she sighed. "_Okay. We'll handle this ourselves_."

"Damn right, you will."

"_Magnus? Thanks for looking out for him. I guess Jace and I are so used to him protecting us that we forget sometimes he's still human._"

"You're welcome," Magnus said. "But that sappy line isn't getting you out of trouble. I'm still pissed at both of you for letting it get this bad."

"_Damn. It was worth a shot_."

Magnus hung up on her and pocketed the phone. Alec was staring out into the middle distance. He blinked back into reality when he realized that Magnus was done talking. "Where'm I going?" he asked, standing up. Magnus shook his head and pushed him back on to the bed.

"You aren't going anywhere," he said. "Isabelle and Jace are going to take care of it themselves."

"But – "

"No buts. You're only going to hinder them in your condition. After you take a nap, you can go help them. I'm keeping your phone until then to make sure you aren't interrupted."

Alec scowled but complied, which only further proved how tired he was. Within three seconds he was fast asleep, snoring with relish. Magnus took the cell phone and tossed it into his closet, then curled up beside him. The guilt, of course, wasn't entirely Isabelle's; Magnus should have realized how tired Alec was last night.

The warlock sighed and smiled, gently sweeping a few strands of black hair from Alec's face. It was easy to forget how selfless Alec could become for people he loved. As the older sibling, he'd always had someone to take care of – Isabelle, Max, Jace, and now probably Clary, Maia, and Simon to some degree. He even took it upon himself to put Magnus first; Magnus, who had survived eight-hundred plus years on his own.

When he was asleep, when he was slack and relaxed, Alec's youth showed. He was only eighteen, but it was easy to forget that with all the responsibility he shouldered. Too much for anyone, particularly someone so young.

"When you're a Shadowhunter, you grow up fast," Alec had told him once. "You don't have long to live anyway – maybe fifty, sixty years if you're lucky. A Shadowhunter is practically considered a full-fledged adult by the time they're fifteen, even though they're not technically recognized as one until they turn eighteen. But by then, you've seen enough to make you an adult by any standard."

Everything but that last line was stale and rehearsed.

Magnus thought it was kind of sad. But after that, he understood why Alec burned himself at both ends for his siblings. He wanted to preserve their youth for as long as possible because he knew what it was like to have his childhood cut short. So that's why he bristled when Isabelle talked about dating boys, or why he cleaned up the reckless messes Jace made.

"It's time someone takes care of you, love," Magnus murmured. He cuddled up to Alec and closed his eyes, where he remained for the next twenty-four hours while Alec slept, uninterrupted, in his arms.


	22. E is for Excalibur

**Author's Note: **_Now that we've come to the last five chapters, we're heading into the kind of random crap that I come up with in the middle of the night when I'm half delirious from sleep deprivation. Bare with me._

* * *

**E is for Excalibur:  
**_Alec wonders if this is the sword he finds under Magnus's bed._

It was a groggy Sunday morning, overcast and gray, a faint drizzle dusting New York City in a fine shroud of cold mist. It was the kind of day reserved for hot tea, warm blankets, good books, purring cats, and occasionally a good snuggle or two.

It was Alec's favorite kind of day.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the perfect day was going to be wasted. Alec didn't have the resources necessary to take advantage of what most people would consider horrid weather. Although he had slept over at Magnus's – again – the warlock had mysteriously disappeared this morning, apparently taking Chairman Meow with him. He'd helpfully scribbled "Urgent business, brb," on a napkin before departing, which kind of explained his absence, but not why he'd taken the Chairman or why he didn't wake Alec before he left.

So that left Alec without snuggles or a purring cat. Well, he could make do without companionship. It would be more tranquil that way, he decided. He went into the kitchen and peered into the pantry only to discover it was hideously empty.

Alec scowled at the barren shelves. No snuggling? Fine. No purring cat to sit on his lap? Alright. But damn it, there was no point in curling up with a good book and warm blankets if he didn't even have a freaking cup of tea! _That_ was unacceptable. He needed to have a serious talk with Magnus when he returned from…well, where ever he'd gone off to.

Alec sighed and closed the pantry. His initial plans were ruined, but there was another thing he could do to occupy his time that was equally entertaining and fulfilling.

Sometimes, Alec liked to go through Magnus's stuff when he wasn't home.

He had found ways to justify it. Magnus seemed to know everything about him, but he knew little to nothing about the warlock's extensive past. Shifting through the junk – which Alec had realized long ago were actually souvenirs from Magnus's adventures – gave him a better idea of who Magnus used to be, how he had become who he was.

In addition, Magnus's house was a chaotic mess. It wouldn't hurt to organize some of his things. He was doing Magnus a favor by sorting through it, although Magnus claimed that his apartment was perfectly inhabitable the way it was. Perhaps an especially glittery breed of monkeys would agree, but not Alec.

It was times like these, when Alec couldn't find something, that he made the excuse he was issuing a search. With the way Magnus organized his belongings, there was no telling where tea might be lurking. There could be bags of Lipton in the drawers of Magnus's nightstand, or hanging with the shirts in Magnus's closet, or there could be a box in the apothecary Magnus kept for his potions and herbal rituals – although Alec would be leery about consuming it if it was in that last location. He had found plutonium in there once.

This was all true, but Alec was a loath to admit that the main reason he searched through Magnus's things was because he was simply nosy. Magnus had a diverse and interesting collection of objects that Alec just found bizarre, intriguing, or otherwise extraordinary. It was kind of like a treasure hunt. He never knew what he'd find next.

Today he explored unvisited territory: under the bed.

Magnus often warned him not to go looking under people's beds, particularly a warlock's. "You should know better than anyone what kinds of things hide under there at night," he'd say. "Just think of what you have to exterminate from under the beds of innocent children, and imagine what someone like _me_ would attract. Better just leave it alone."

Alec knew the repercussions of literally looking for trouble after dusk, but it was morning, so whatever had lain dormant under the refuge of Magnus's mattress was gone. It was safe to voyage.

He got on his hands and knees and peered under the bed. It was dark and dusty, but he saw the vague outlines of several shapes. There were boxes, a pair of shoes, a sock, and something big and round with flashing green eyes –

Alec let out a bloodcurdling scream and fell back on his ass when that last thing leapt out at him with a feral "mrrrow!" Chairmain Meow landed next to Alec, hissed once, and prowled away with his tail slowly waving discontentedly behind him. Alec struggled to steady his rapid heartbeat. Apparently, Magnus hadn't taken the cat with him after all.

Once he'd calmed down, Alec ducked under the bed again and bravely reached out for a long, narrow box. It was heavier than he expected. He pulled it from under the dark depths of the bed and saw that it was just a simply made oak box with a delicate gold clasp. Pieces of it were scorched and chipped, but otherwise it was without embellishment or personality.

Alec shrugged and undid the clasp, gently opening the box. The inside was richly cushioned with black satin, sleek and shiny and obviously fragile. On the cushion was a massive scabbard for a broadsword, also made of oak and decorated only with a bit of gold trim and matching dragon with small rubies for eyes. He could also see the hilt of the sword, darker wood and polished iron worn with use.

Alec raised his eyebrows. Despite its simplicity, he could tell it was an impressive blade that had won many battles. There was a persuasive aura that surrounded it, a subtle power that hypnotized the warrior in him. He could visualize himself astride a strong horse, hear the thunder of hooves beneath him and feel himself sailing through the air. His fingers tingled with the ghost of his bow, twitched to shoot an arrow and curl in satisfaction when it met its mark.

This sword wasn't meant for Magnus, though. It couldn't have been. The sword was made for someone with a broader and shorter build than Magnus's tall, lean body. It was meant for someone with huge shoulders and arms, big hands and thick wrists, someone perhaps a hair less than six feet tall.

Alec sighed. He wasn't fit to wield the sword either.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to pick it up, right? To remove it from the scabbard and see what it really looked like? Maybe that would give him a clue about why Magnus owned a sword he couldn't use.

Alec wrapped his hand around the hilt and lifted it out of the case. The sword made a familiar metallic _swish_ when he took it out of the scabbard. He tested the weight of it in his hand. He wasn't a sword connoisseur by any means, but he could tell it was flawlessly crafted, exceptionally balanced, and lovingly maintained despite its obvious age. The metal was strange; it had a sort of luminescence that reminded Alec vaguely of the surface of Lake Lynn.

He stood up scrutinized it in his hand. Then he thrust it forward, slicing an invisible opponent, stepped back, spun and parried an imaginary counterattack. It wasn't as difficult to manage as he thought; it almost seemed like the more he used it, the easier it became to wield.

Alec was so absorbed in his swordplay that he didn't notice the long silhouette in the threshold of the bedroom until he turned around and nearly stabbed it. Then he realized it was Magnus. The warlock raised his eyebrows at him, his lips turned up in a crooked smile. Alec felt the blood leave his face, mortified. "Um…hi, Magnus, I was just, uh, waiting for you to get home—"

"So you went under the bed and started playing with a sword you found there?"

"Well, not exac…yeah." Alec pursed his lips at it, turning it in his hand. "Where'd you get this thing? It's pretty nice."

Magnus shook his head slowly. "My dear, you will never cease to amaze me. This proves it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Why don't you put it back?"

"Okay," Alec sighed. He put the sword back in its scabbard and placed it back in the oak box, locking it again. "You still didn't answer my question, though."

"Let's just say it belonged to an old friend," Magnus answered elusively. "A _really_ old friend."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

"I know."

Alec narrowed his eyes but relinquished. "Fine. I guess it can't be all that important. It's not like it's _Excalibur_ or anything."

Magnus blinked.

"You know, if it was, that would make you kind of like Merlin," Alec snickered, pushing the case back under the bed. "You could grow a white beard and wear fancy robes all the time. How does that sound?"

"Like kinky medieval role-play," Magnus admitted. "You could be King Arthur."

Alec snorted. "Yeah, right. That's not believable enough even for _sex_, Magnus."

The warlock smiled again. "Right….hey, what were you doing under my bed, anyway?"

"I was bored. Speaking of which, we need to discuss something. You seem to think that you shouldn't keep any tea in the house, which is false."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. When you've got Chairman Meow guarding the valuables under your bed and you're not here to entertain me, the least you can do is supply tea so I can be comfortable while I read."

"I can entertain you now," Magnus purred, closing the door behind him.

"Are you sure about that? What if I don't want you to entertain me now? What if I just want tea?"

Magnus grinned and held out his hand, in which steaming hot mug of herbal tea appeared. "Your wish is my command...my liege."


	23. G is for Golf

**Author's Note:** _So, surprisingly enough, G was the hardest letter to find a good word for. The other options were "Gutter" and "Goldfish" which are both so overdone, but after hearing a story from a friend of mine who works at a golf course, I had to go with "Golf" as my G. Enjoy. :)_

_Also, if any of you golf, I apologize for the summary. Golf can be very exciting. Probably._

* * *

**G is for Golf:  
**_Magnus knows how to make the sport entertaining__._

Magnus liked to go on themed dates.

Alec always vetoed them. When Magnus confronted him dressed as a hula dancer, or Prince Charming, or a vampire, what was he supposed to do? He liked going on dates with Magnus, but not dressed in some ridiculous outfit, pretending to be something he was not—although Alec was pretty much convinced that the attire was the only reason Magnus even liked it.

"Can't we just be ourselves?" he'd asked the last time, thoroughly exasperated after several minutes of persistent pleading in the warlock's best Dracula impersonation.

"Where'sss the fun in that?" Magnus countered. His plastic—or at least Alec _thought_ they were plastic—fangs gave him a lisp that was quite humorous. "Don't you ever get bored?"

"How could I possibly ever get bored of _you_, Magnus?" Alec frowned. "Wait. Do you get bored of me?"

Magnus blinked. "No, of courssse not. I jussst thought that our datesss could ussse sssome…pizzazz."

"Why fix it if it's not broken?"

Magnus acquiesced to Alec's sound logic, and they went to go get frozen yogurt not dressed as vampires (although Magnus did make a very sexy bloodsucker). He hadn't bothered Alec about the themed dates for some time, so the Shadowhunter assumed it was something of the past. And good riddance. There was no telling what Magnus would come up with next.

So when Magnus texted him to meet him at a golf course outside the city, Alec didn't think much of it. Maybe they were going on a picnic or something. It was a lovely day, a little warm and bright, but with a cool breeze to negate any discomfort the golfers would feel. Alec searched the expansive green lawn for his boyfriend to no avail. He was putting his cell phone up to his ear to call Magnus when he heard an ominous _thunk! _behind him and an obnoxious fuchsia golf ball sailed just past the phone. If he hadn't moved his head a fraction of an inch beforehand, his cell phone would have been obliterated.

Sighing, Alec snapped the phone shut and turned around, a protest on his lips. When he caught sight of Magnus, though, his jaw dropped too low to speak.

The warlock was dressed in a black-and-green striped polo with plaid shorts of the same colors. His white cleats were no doubt the finest imported Italian leather, buffed to perfection beside the gold and white argyle socks. His cap was also a dusty gold. Alec blinked and realized it was covered in gold glitter. A golf club swung from one hand.

"Four!" he exclaimed.

"…What the hell?" Alec said when he regained his speech.

"Why aren't you dressed, love?" Magnus chastised, throwing his golf club over his shoulders in an unbearably attractive fashion. "I told you we were golfing."

"No, you said 'meet me at the golf course'."

"Well, doesn't that imply golfing?"

"It would, if I knew how to golf!"

"Come, Alec darling, it isn't so hard," Magnus assured. "Surely if you can swing that sword around as you do, you can handle a golf club? Besides, we both know you're a fast learner."

Alec blushed and begrudgingly followed Magnus to the golf cart he'd evidently rented. There were two sets of golf clubs—one of the bags was bedazzled with silver rhinestones. Alec claimed the plain black set for himself and hopped into the passenger side of the golf cart. Only when his feet knocked against something did he realize there was a six pack of nameless brown bottles in the cart. He picked them up and inspected them, only to find German gibberish on the label.

"Magnus," he said as the warlock climbed behind the wheel of the golf cart. "What is this?"

"Ale," he replied. "Try it. It'll put some hair on your chest."

"I told you, it's a condition that most Shadowhunters have so the runes are easier to draw," Alec huffed. "You don't have any hair on your chest either."

"My muscles are so sculpted, the hair swooned and fell off."

Alec frowned. "Magnus, are you drunk?"

"Quite the contrary. I don't get drunk. Drunk gets me."

"That's not reassuring. Maybe I should drive—"

"Too late!" Magnus stepped on the gas and the little white cart zoomed into motion, shredding some of the perfect green lawn along the way. Alec stifled a less-than-manly squeak as they rocketed down a slight incline at a dangerous velocity. If there was a speed limit for golf carts on the golf course, they were certainly breaking it.

The cart hit a bump, and Alec gripped the metal bar in front of him to keep from flying out, although that might have been preferable to remaining in the cart with his crazy, inebriated boyfriend.

"This is ridiculous—"

"You're right," Magnus interrupted. He snapped his fingers, which gave of tiny blue sparks, and suddenly the cart lurched forward with even more speed. Alec cried out as his head snapped back and the wind tore at his clothes.

"Stop the cart! _Stop the cart!_"

"Relax, darling. Have a drink." Magnus took his hands off the wheel, which started steering itself, and reached down to get Alec a beer. He popped the cap off with his teeth, took a swing, and handed it to him. Alec just gaped.

Then he downed the rest. What the hell? He was probably going to die by golf cart anyway, so he might as well enjoy himself.

"That's the spirit!" Magnus drawled, once again claiming control of the cart and taking a sharp turn to avoid some panicking golfers.

"Where exactly are we going?" Alec shrieked as they narrowly missed a sand trap.

"I don't know, dear. It's about the journey, not the destination."

Suddenly two other golf carts appeared behind them. These ones hand flashing lights on the top. _By the Angel_, Alec thought to himself, _it's the golf police. We're going to be arrested by golf police._

"Sir, this is security," one of the men not driving said into a megaphone. "I am going to ask you to slowly pull over the golf cart and calmly leave the golf course, or we will have to escort you using force."

Magnus grinned devilishly, and Alec felt his stomach sink. "Magnus, don't—"

"You'll never catch me alive, coppers!"

With that, he swerved the golf cart so violently to the left that a basket of fuchsia golf balls spilled out. The resulting mess left the golf police unable to pursue the magically enhanced cart. Not that it mattered; it seemed that Magnus had grown bored with driving in the tranquil grasses of the golf course and was now headed toward a road with oncoming traffic.

"Magnus! Oh, God, Magnus, _Magnus_, oh, God, oh—" It was not one of Alec's prouder moments. He screamed like a little girl as they crossed the four lanes of traffic at what felt like warp speed, leaving a trail of angry honks behind them.

"You see," Magnus said once they were on the other side, "why can't I ever get that kind of scream from you when we're in bed?"

"Because I'm not _terrified_ when we're in bed!" Alec shrieked. "Magnus, stop the cart! Please, God, just stop the cart!"

Magnus was silent for a moment. "…Oh, dear."

"What?"

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Stop the cart."

"…_What?!_"

"It seems I can't stop the cart." Magnus lifted his foot off the gas pedal to demonstrate. The cart didn't slow down; it was still sailing across plains of green, unkept grass.

Alec felt like puking. "Why can't you stop the cart?!"

"I don't know. It just won't stop."

"Magnus, if we don't stop soon, we're going to cut through New York traffic!" Alec squealed. "And we are going to _die_!"

"I'm not going to let us _die_, Alexander," Magnus said demurely. "I honestly thought you'd handle a crisis better, considering. You're not usually one to freak out like this. It's a new side of you."

Alec didn't know how to reply to that.

Magnus took the wheel and pulled off yet another sharp turn, ridding the cart of Alec's set of golf clubs. They rocketed into a small thicket of saplings and brush. The slim, elastic branches whipped Alec's skin like several switches, cutting him in places. Magnus's mouth was set into a thin line. Sometime during the ride his hat had gone missing. "Hold on!"

Alec could do just that as they catapulted into bigger trees, their roots upsetting the cart. He clenched his teeth together, trying to keep from biting his tongue as they were jostled around. Finally they burst into a clearing…

…right in the path of a tiny lake.

"You know how to swim, correct?" said Magnus.

Alec mutely shook his head.

"Good."

And then the golf cart soared into the cold, clear waters of the lake, along with its two occupants and the bedazzled golf bag.

The water hit Alec like a slap in the face. It took him a moment to recover from the solid blow. He almost let his breath go in horror when he realized how fast the golf cart was dragging them down into the black depths of the water. He frantically looked around and saw Magnus trying to untangle his long legs from the steering wheel. Alec helped the best he could, grabbing the warlock's struggling ankles, but his movements were slow and resistant. Eventually he managed to shove Magnus out of the sinking golf cart and followed him out.

Alec was a much stronger swimmer than Magnus, who didn't like the water, and ended up half-dragging the warlock up to the surface with him. He felt it when Magnus could no longer hold his breath and let out the torrent of bubbles. His own lungs were burning for oxygen, but he knew that the end was near.

Finally their heads broke the surface, sucking in air and coughing out water. They waded in the water for a few moments, appreciating the distance the golf cart had flown. They were almost halfway out into the lake.

Alec glanced over at Magnus, who was still partially recovering. Outrage twisted his features into a glare. "Are you freaking _insane_?! I can't believe that you just drove us into a lake with an enchanted golf cart! What the hell were you thinking, Magnus?! You could have killed us! We could have been run over by a car, or flown out of the cart and broke our necks, or drowned!"

"I…am sorry, Alec," said Magnus, looking baffled but sincere. "I wasn't expecting my magic to malfunction like that."

"You know what happens when you drink alcohol."

"I'm sorry."

"Whatever. Let's just get out of here before the cops find us. I'm sure they've got helicopters after us by now."

"You had fun though, right?"

Alec dunked him.


	24. Q is for Quarantine

**Author's Note:** _This was so fun to write! It's really just out there (these last few chapters will be, because they're the ones that I had to struggle to make a plot for). It really just got out of hand. Oh, well._

* * *

**Q is for Quarantine:  
**_This is what happens when a potion goes wrong._

High Warlock of Brooklyn was a prestigious status. It took a lot of dedication, cunning, and good old-fashioned elbow grease to uphold such a prestigious status. This included making new discoveries to share with the warlock community.

Magnus was good at this. While he was (usually) responsible about magical experimentation, he didn't shy away from it. He was willing to brave a malfunction or two in the name of magic—and in the name of keeping his hard-earned title. These malfunctions were generally unpleasant—he'd had to suffer through boils, rashes, blisters, mood swings, hallucinations, muscle spasms, erectile dysfunction, blindness, and other various ailments—but they always had a cure. It was just a matter of trying to find it.

He had a sign reserved for occasions like this. He always hung it on his door so he wouldn't be disturbed and so the toxin would not spread if it was airborne. It was a fairly standard "DO NOT ENTER," in big bold letters, under which he'd added, "UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!" for clarification in equally big bold letters. It was so straightforward that even the stupidest of idiots couldn't misconstrue the message.

Except, apparently, his boyfriend.

Magnus was working on a new potion—he didn't know _what_ it was going to do yet, but he was pretty excited to find out—when something exploded and splashed all over his arms. This was troubling with any potion, but particularly so with a random assortment of ingredients for an experimental potion. Before he had the chance to blink, his arms were sprouting purple feathers.

"Oh, dear," he sighed. What if he turned into a bird again and Chairman Meow tried to eat him? That wouldn't do at all.

No sooner did he think this when he heard Alec's voice from the den. "Magnus? You home?"

Magnus dragged his feathery hand across his face in frustration. Fantastic. "In here, darling."

Alec poked his head in, eyes widening at the sight of Magnus's mutation. "Wow. Um. Should I…come back later?"

"Alexander," Magnus said curtly, "I have a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Can you read?"

Alec blinked. Evidently this was not the question he'd been expecting. "Some languages. English, French, Latin. Nephilim runes. You're teaching me Mandarin, too, remember—?"

"English. Can you read English?"

"You know I can. Why?"

"Did you read the sign outside my door before you barged in here?"

"…Yeah."

"What did it say?"

" 'Do not enter.' But I figured that was to keep annoying people away. You have crazy signs on your door all the time."

"What else did it say?"

"… 'Under any circumstances.'"

"Exactly. Do you know why that sign was on my door, Alexander?"

"Well," Alec said, looking him up and down, "I'm assuming it's because you're turning into Big Bird's gay cousin."

"Hardy har har," Magnus retorted sardonically. "Just because I'm exposing you to cultural necessities does not mean you get to reference them against me. But, no, that is not exactly why I had the sign up. It was there because I was experimenting with potions, during which time it is very dangerous for other people to be with me because there is a high probability that the potion go sour. And since I don't know what these potions will do, I have a sign to keep people away and several barriers to keep out any airborne substances."

"Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh' is right. So, regarding your earlier question whether or not you should leave and come back later, the answer is no. In fact, you cannot leave. To ensure that the rest of this city stays safe, you're quarantined with me until I can figure out how to reverse this."

"You're kidding me, right?" Alec deadpanned. "This is just another way to get me to stay as long as you want me to."

Magnus lifted an eyebrow and raised his arms. Some feathers glided to the ground. "Even I wouldn't go this far for a joke, Alec."

"Damn. Well, can I help?"

"Not particularly, I'm afraid," Magnus sighed. "I'm going to go over these notes and see how I can reverse it. Just let me know if you start having side effects."

"Okay."

Alec ducked out of the room, presumably to find something to occupy himself whilst quarantined. He would probably curl up on the couch with a dusty old book. It would be the best quarantine of his life. Magnus frowned irritably. He could think of several better ways to spend numerous hours locked up in an apartment with Alec.

He sighed and looked down at the list of ingredients he'd kept track of for exactly this reason. Mandrake root, fairy toadstool, sweat of a bald man, eye of newt, and paprika brought to a boil then strained, added to a ground mixture of rowan bark and incense burned at the grave of an enemy. There was nothing indicative of purple feathers upon contact with skin. Then again, he hadn't ever actually put all those things together before. They could do anything.

Magnus began to feel lightheaded. He sat down on his comfy leather office chair. Perhaps the side effects of the potion were more serious than purple feathers after all. It was a disconcerting thought.

Suddenly the vertigo became a blinding pain behind his eyes. He felt his bones morphing, shrinking, reshaping. A transformation, he realized. It was both a blessing and a curse. Transformation potions were usually very temporary. However, there was no knowing how long it could last, no idea what animal he would change into—although he imagined in this case it as some sort of bird—and no telling if he might maintain his faculties while transformed.

It was too late to warn Alec, but Magnus wasn't really worried about him. After all, he fought demons every day, so even the most monstrous of birds wouldn't terrorize him. No, he was more worried for himself, because there was no way Alec would be able to tell if the animal was Magnus, especially if he didn't remember anything while transformed.

Finally the pain stopped. Magnus blinked, looking around the room. So it seemed he still had a brain that functioned like a person's. Now all that was left to do was see what animal he had become. If it was an animal at all.

He flapped over to the mirror—his legs were too short and thin to do much walking—and gazed at the colorful, exotic parrot that he met. It's eyes were like a cat's, golden with a slit pupil, and it's feathers were red, green, blue, and purple, respectively. _Well_, Magnus thought. _At least I can still talk_.

He glided to his paper, which listed all the ingredients. Perhaps he should figure out an antidote, just in case. But how would he write it down?

"Alec, dear, would you come in here for a second?" His voice was not his usual smooth purr, but a terrible squawk. Alec rushed into the apothecary, alarmed, only to freeze when his eyes rested on Magnus.

"By the Angel," he whispered. "Magnus?"

"Yes, biscuit, it's me. I apparently created a transformation potion. Don't worry, they usually wear off. But in case it doesn't, would you mind writing something down for me?"

"Sure, but do you want a cracker first?"

Magnus tried to scowl, but it wasn't effective. Clearly enjoying himself, Alec grabbed a pen and sat down in the chair. Magnus considered his parrot potion and told the Shadowhunter exactly what to write in order to reverse it. His small, precise print was almost comically different from Magnus's elegant calligraphy.

"Wait a second," Alec said once they were done. "This is just that potion backwards."

"Yes. And?"

"It's that simple?"

"Sometimes. Not always. Now, why don't you go ahead and start grinding the rowan and incense. You have burned incense in front of an enemy's grave before, haven't you?"

"Um…"

"Kidding. It needs to be the enemy of whoever is taking the antidote, anyway," Magnus said. "My incense is the second jar on the third shelf. The rowan bark is three jars down."

Alec squinted at the faded labels, finally locating the rowan and the incense. "So, exactly in front of whose grave did you burn this?"

"Oh, different people."

"That would explain the ridiculous amount."

"I have a lot of enemies, sweetheart."

Alec measured out the contents as Magnus directed and began grinding them together with a motor and pestle. As he twisted his elbow, it knocked the earlier concoction off the Bunsen burner and landed all over his arm. "Uh-oh," he said.

"Don't worry, as long as it didn't come in contact with your skin—" Magnus stopped when Alec raised his hand, which was covered in the bright blue liquid and was beginning to sprout feathers.

"Oh, my. Well, it looks like we're going to have to wait this out together."

"Magnus! I can't stay a parrot indefinitely! I have responsibilities!"

"You won't be able to finish the antidote in time. It took me about an hour to make that potion. Waiting it out is your only option."

"But—"

"Come on, haven't you ever wondered what it's like to be a parrot?" Magnus said. If he had a face, he would be grinning.

"Never. Not once in my life have I ever thought to myself, 'Hey, I wonder how that parrot is feeling right about now.' Not even at a pet store." Alec suddenly went pale and shuddered. Magnus watched in morbid fascination as his boyfriend rapidly sprouted more feathers, as his legs and arms shriveled into wing and talons, and as his countenance evolved into that of a parrot with wide, horrified blue eyes. When he came to, he looked at Magnus and declared, "I'm going to kill you."

"Now, now, let's not be too dramatic."

"Too dramatic? Magnus, we're _parrots_. And we don't even know how long this is going to last! It could be forever."

"All we'd have to do is find some pirates."

"I'm going to _kill_ you!"

"Calm down, Polly."

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

Magnus frowned. Or he would have, if he had lips. "You know, I'm a little insulted. You weren't nearly this upset when it was just me. In fact, I recall you laughing and asking me if I had a craving for crackers."

"That's because you told me you knew the antidote!"

"I do know the antidote. All we need is someone to make it for us."

"And who is going to do that?" Alec demanded. "Not my family. They can't know about this. I'd never live it down. So that also rules out Clary and Simon, because they're sure to talk about it. I don't exactly have many other friends, Magnus."

"I have friends."

"Would they make an antidote for you?"

"No. They'd probably make me suffer. Or throw a party at my place while I'm incapable of stopping them. Or raid my closet."

"Exactly. Your friends aren't exactly reliable. No offense."

"None taken. Hey, what about that werewolf girl? You know, the one in Luke's pack?"

Alec paused. "Maia?"

"Yes, her. She'd keep her mouth shut, wouldn't she?"

"I don't know…"

"Well, I have no problem staying a parrot for the next few days," Magnus pointed out. "You're the one who wants to be a real boy so badly."

Alec slumped his wings. "Help me find my cell phone."

They dug around in Alec's discarded close until they found the cell—"Damn, I forgot you had a flip phone"—and struggled to find Maia's number in the contacts. They finally managed to get it ringing and stooped by it impatiently.

"_Hello?_" Maia's voice came from the speaker.

"Maia! It's Alec. I need a favor. Are you busy?"

"_Um…no, I'm just at Luke's helping out…what's wrong with your voice?_"

"It's a long story."

"_I'm not doing any favors until I know the story, Alec_."

"Okay, short version is that Magnus turned us into parrots," Alec said. "We have an antidote, but we can't make it. We need someone with opposable thumbs."

"_You…you're parrots?!_" The phone erupted into laughter. "_O-okay, I'm on my way_."

"Thanks, Maia. And don't tell Simon or Clary or…anyone. I'll never live this down." He gave her Magnus's address. "And when you get here, ignore the sign on the door."

Magnus snorted.

* * *

When Maia arrived fifteen minutes later—apprehensively eyeing the extravagant sign as she opened the door—she found two huge parrots perched upon the television, squawking at the small white cat below. It stared at them with hungry concentration, fluffy tail flicking back and forth. Both parrots managed to look relieved when they saw Maia. The cat took the opportunity to pounce, ruffling a few feathers but otherwise unsuccessful in capturing a parrot that was nearly twice its size.

Once Maia neared, the cat hissed and scurried away. The parrots gave her a look of the utmost gratitude. "Thank the Angel you're here," said the one she presumed was Alec.

"That's odd," Magnus said, gazing off to where the cat had gone. "Chairman Meow never reacts like that to any of my werewolf guests."

"Cats didn't like me when I was human, either," Maia explained. She raised her eyebrows at them. "You realize you guys probably could have scooped that thing right up into your talons and ate it for supper, right?"

The parrots glanced at each other. "Of course we did," Magnus lied. "We just didn't want to injure my cat."

"Right. Well, where's this antidote you want me to make?"

The birds led her to the pharmacy, where her eyes widened at the jars full of vivid powders, glowing liquids, dried herbs and other, stranger ingredients. She shook her head in awe. "You couldn't pay me to mess around with some of this stuff," she remarked, eyeing a jar of severed bat wings.

"Don't worry, you won't be handling anything too dangerous, or else I would have hired another professional," Magnus assured her. "Although that would have been a last resort. The sheer humiliation…"

"Right," Maia said for the second time that evening. She wasn't even aware someone like Magnus was capable of humiliation. "Tell me what I have to do."

Magnus gave her explicit instructions, politely answering her questions about the ingredients—"There's seriously such thing as eye of newt?" "What the hell is so special about the sweat of a bald man?" "You use paprika in a potion? I thought that was for cooking."

Finally the most difficult part, the potentially poisonous mandrake root, was finished, and the antidote complete. It was a dark greenish-yellow sludge.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" Alec inquired, remembering the attractive blue of the first potion that had gotten them into this mess.

"They can't all be pretty," Magnus sighed. "Maia, if you would be a dear and put some gloves on and rub this on our wings? Be careful not to get any on your skin. I don't know what it would do."

Maia nodded and found some rubber gloves. Wrinkling her nose, she dipped her hands in the antidote and spread it on their feathers. "How long will it take to work?"

"Only a few minutes. In fact, I'm already starting to feel some pain."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Oh, yes, it means my bones are reshaping and—" he cut off with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut. Alec was in a similar condition, doubled over. Maia watched in amazement as the two parrots molted their feathers, as their talons became feet, as their beaks shrank into noses. Within five minutes the birds were gone, replaced by two men.

Two naked men.

Maia, despite her better judgment, blushed ferociously. "I'm, um, going to leave now," she decreed, turning around before they could notice her gawking.

"Don't forget to leave the gloves," Magnus reminded.

"Oh, right." Maia avoided looking at them as she struggled to peel off the handwear and tossed a faint goodbye over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the exit.

"She's a lovely girl," Magnus sighed.

Alec shook his head as he pulled on his pants. "You could have saved us the embarrassment and snapped some clothes on us."

"I'm not ashamed of my body."

"I was talking about Maia."

"Oh, I don't think she minded."

"I just don't want her picturing me naked every time she sees me," Alec said.

"I can wipe her memory if you want."

"No, you're not allowed to mess in my friends' heads. And will you get some freaking clothes on?!"

Magnus grinned. "Come on, love, don't tell me _you're_ embarrassed. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"True, but don't come crying to me because you exposed your penis to rare, exotic potion ingredients."

"Fair point." Magnus snapped his fingers and was dressed again. He went over the paper he'd written the potion and its antidote on. "I call this day a success. I have a new potion to present my colleagues."

"Really? You're going to use that?" Alec said.

"Why not?" A pen appeared in Magnus's hand. He wrote _Parrot Transformation Potion_ on the top and bound it in a thick leather binder that contained all the experiments he'd concocted over the centuries. Then he turned back to Alec. "Now, why did you come over, again?"


End file.
